


Nothing Goes Wrong Part 3

by OneSaltyErik



Series: Nothing Goes Wrong [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Medieval, BAMF Philza, BAMF Technoblade, Brotherhood, ConsensualEarPiercingInOneScene, Dadza, DemonDream, DreamFINALLYShowsUpInThisOne, DreamIsScary, DubiousMedicalPractices, Family, Family Fluff, Fantasy, Flashbacks, HearingVoices, HeavilyImpliedPsychosisSymptoms, Horseback Riding, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Infection, LotsOfHeadCanons, MinecraftRealLife, Minor Injuries, NOSHIPPING, Negotiations, Other, PhilzaIsTrying, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Serious Injuries, SoftScenes, SomeCanonComplianceButSomeNot, Swordfighting, Swordplay, TechnoIsTrying, TechnobladeWhump, TheseAreJustTheCharactersAndNotTheActualPeople, TheyAreBrothersYourHonour, Threats, Threats of Violence, Underage Drinking, Whump, WitchPhilza, Wounds, foundFamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSaltyErik/pseuds/OneSaltyErik
Summary: Technoblade has had a rough life.Tommy has only begun to live and has already been through too much.Philza has seen far, far too much.Wilbur/Ghostbur doesn't remember much at all.Dream KNOWS far more than he is letting on.Technoblade tries his best to help Tommy recover from exile but his own recovery of execution is not something he's been thinking too hard about...Philza is struggling to help Ghostbur and Tubbo.Quackity is a schemer.Dream wants a favour.
Series: Nothing Goes Wrong [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090898
Comments: 154
Kudos: 137





	1. "Welcome to your life, there's no turning back." -Tears for Fears 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Trying a little something new here, normally I like to post my work completely finished and all at once, but I've been really struggling with a few chapters and I don't think it would be fair to keep you waiting. So I've set up a schedule to release a chapter a week, fully edited, and the best it can be. 
> 
> My little sibling and I have been collaborating on the plot as well as a side arc that is purely canon divergent and full of headcanons and various other ideas, that will be coming soon! (When I finally get my butt back into gear and finish writing it.) We're also working out various character designs that we can hopefully upload to this new addition of the series, that way you can see exactly how we view each of the characters depicted in this story. 
> 
> For those of you who are new, this is Part 3 of the series Nothing Goes Wrong. I suggest reading the first two parts to be able to make sense of this one. :) 
> 
> I hope this new schedule set up isn't too much of an issue for the rest of you. And once again, thank you all so so much for reading and leaving comments! I read and respond to all of them and my little sibling enjoys getting feedback on some of their ideas and they look forward to being old enough to create their own account here and write their own stories themselves one day! 
> 
> PlotNotes: 
> 
> . Dream is a demon. Just a full on demon. Why is he here? Well, I've not written that yet but I will leave hints :) 
> 
> . Techno, Tubbo, Philza, JSchlatt, and Fundy are hybrids. Tommy and Quackity are human. Ghostbur is a ghost, but is human in flashbacks.
> 
> . Techno and Wilbur are twins, their bio-mother had a latent hybrid gene which only presented in Techno, though Wilbur became a carrier of the gene. 
> 
> . Tubbo may or may not be Schlatt's son, sibling and I have yet to decide. 
> 
> . Tommy is canonically Philza's bio-kid in this retelling. Who's his mom? You'll find out in the side arc. :) 
> 
> . Ranboo is Techno's son. Considering recent events in the streams, with Ranboo hearing voices, sibling and I are more or less convinced that yup, this headcanon works. Ranboo is also half enderman, he has a pearl that resides in his chest that can teleport him, but due to him only being half, he can't guarantee where it will take him and it takes a lot of energy to use it. So it's mainly just as a last resort. 
> 
> . Philza is a witch because he just has that vibe. Also I think there needs to be more male witches in fiction. Also witches are cool. 
> 
> . The setting is kind of a post-apocalypse/fantasy setting. The modern world as we know it is nothing more than ruins, humanity is slowing disappearing, hybrids are common, a disease that attacks people over the age of 20 has been wiping out the population slowly (my headcanon as to why there isn't really anyone over their mid twenties on the SMP). Ruins of the old world dot the landscape, old world media such as books and discs are highly sought after for their histories. (But that's NOT why Tommy is obsessed with the discs, you'll find out why later.) People are still surviving but with a medieval fantasy esque style of living. Magic exists, demons can be summoned, the gods may or may not be real. 
> 
> (There are a lot of flash-backs and flash-forwards in this work. Indications of a flash-back ending and a flash-forward beginning, within the same chapter, will be marked with a _____________. Flash-backs will begin with the words 'Many Years Ago' underlined.
> 
> CW: this whole work is full of violence, I will do my best to label each chapter with a content warning about what happens. The very first chapter has bullying, non sexual touching without consent, getting jumped, and strangling. And that's just chapter one, so please keep in mind that if any of this subject matter is disturbing for you, this might not be the fic for you. 
> 
> (The characters depicted are based solely on the online characters/personas of the various players in the Dream SMP and NOT the actual people themselves. If, however, at any time a content creator expresses discomfort with these depictions, I will take this fic down.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno tries to hang out with his twin at a new ruin. It goes poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Bullying, non consensual but non sexual touching, getting jumped, strangulation, blood, gore, hallucinations, PTSD flashbacks, passing out.

Many Years Ago 

He didn’t want to be here. 

Techno twisted the ends of his braid before holding it up to his mouth, running the end of it over his lips as he watched the group of teens cautiously. 

Wilbur had made some more friends it seemed, one of them being a particularly loud and joke cracking boy with a set of horns beginning to poke through his hair. Techno had no thoughts about the boy, negative or otherwise. He had called himself Schlatt and aside from being boisterous and not very understanding of personal space, Techno could care less about him. 

At least Wilbur seemed happy sharing in his jokes. 

The others however…

“So how exactly are you twins?” a blonde hybrid girl with cat-like eyes sidled up to him. 

She smelled of flowers. 

Rotting flowers. 

He jerked himself away as she placed a clawed hand on his shoulder. 

“Ooh, no touchy ey?” her green eyes flashed. 

Techno flattened his ears, a low snarl beginning to grow in his throat. 

Why had he agreed to join Wilbur? Why didn’t he just stay with Phil? 

The group had wandered into an inhabited ruin, occupied mostly by hybrids, much to their surprise. Techno supposed Phil thought it might be a good idea to let the boys mingle for a bit, socialise as he went about trading the various books and artefacts they had collected. 

Techno hoped they wouldn’t have to stay much longer. 

Sure, it was nice to be in a place that didn’t immediately give him frightened or angry looks, or attempt to kick him out. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted the attention these teens were now suffocating him with. 

Why didn’t he just stay with Phil? 

_Touch…_

_Touch…_

_Bite her…_

_Touch hurts…_

_Don’t touch...._

_Bite her…_

_Scream…_

_Tear her hair off…_

_Kick her…_

_Touch…_

“You two don’t look anything alike.” a boy with completely black eyes and purple speckles across his face leaned horribly close. “Sure you’re not a girl?” 

“He’s too pretty to be a boy.” the cat eyed girl snatched Techno’s wrist. 

It took all his strength not to immediately scratch at her. 

“Come on!” the girl pried his braid from his hand. “Can you at least say anything? We can’t tell what you are until we hear your voice.” 

She ran her fingers through the end of the braid, coyly. 

The snarl in Techno’s throat finally broke through as he gave her a warning glare. 

“Ooh! Yup!” the black eyed boy pressed closer to him. “Definitely a dude, too deep for a girl’s voice.” 

“Don’t touch me.” Techno yanked his hand away, grabbing his braid from the girl as he backed up. The voices were growing louder. 

_Don’t touch…_

_Don’t touch…_

_Bite them…_

_Scratch…_

_Stab them…_

_Hurt them…_

_Don’t hurt me…_

_Hurt them…_

“Aw! Chill man!” the girl held her hands up. “We’re just playing.” 

“You never heard of teasing before?” the boy laughed. “Wow, you really are nothing like your twin over there!” 

Techno stared at the ground as he tried to stifle the growing voices in his head. He didn’t even realise he had gripped his wrist until it bled. 

“Dude what the fuck?” he heard the boy take a step back at the sight of his bleeding wrist. “The fuck are you doing to your arm?” 

“Don’t touch me!” Techno snapped, flashing his tusks. 

“Yo Wilbur!” he heard the girl call out. “Your brother’s being weird!” 

Techno continued to dig his claws into his arm as he stared at the ground, snarling. He flinched as he felt Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder. 

“You ok man?” his brother’s voice was soothing. He felt the voices calm at the sound. 

Techno shook his head. 

“You know,” he felt Wilbur’s hand rubbing his shoulder. “You can go back to Phil if you're uncomfortable. You don’t need to stay for my sake.” 

He sighed in relief, he’d been hoping Wil would say that. 

“Ok.” he felt his claws relax, releasing from his wrist. 

“Aw!” he heard the cat eyed girl put as he turned to leave the group. “Why’d you tell him off?” 

“I didn’t,” Wilbur’s voice sounded tense. “ _You_ were making him uncomfortable, so now he's leaving.” 

“...rude..” 

“Shut up!” 

_Shut up…_

_Rude…_

_Rude…_

_Shut up…_

_Bitch boy…_

_Thank you Wil…_

_Run away…_

_Coward…_

_Coward…_

_Shut up.._

_Shut up…_

“Shut up.” Techno hissed, shaking his head as he picked his way through the ruins, heading back towards the more inhabited section where he knew Phil would be. 

He hated this. 

He hated this! 

He wanted to be with Wilbur. He wanted to be with his brother. The two had always been inseparable, but ever since they had hit their early teens, their connection seemed...different somehow. 

Techno didn’t like it. It felt as if the older they got, the less they seemed to understand one another. How did Wilbur do it? How could he stand other people? How could he throw himself out there so easily for others? 

Should he be proud of him? 

Should he be jealous? 

He didn’t know. 

He realised, lately, there were many things about Wilbur he didn’t know. 

He didn’t know how to feel about that revelation. 

_Hurts…_

_Brother…_

_Wilbur is brother…_

_Friend is leaving…_

_What is friend…_

_Hurts…_

_Don’t understand…_

_Mean…_

_Come back…_

_Leave alone…_

Techno was slammed out of his thoughts as he felt large hands shove his back against a wall, pinning his shoulders with thick claws that threatened to break his skin. 

Stunned, he froze, staring up at his assailant. 

The teen before him towered over his head, a pair of rounded fuzzy ears poked out through his hair, shaggy and unkempt. Dark, wrathful eyes peered over a toothy snarl. 

A bear hybrid, Techno realised. 

The hybrid’s touch was sharp. He felt something twisting in his chest at the sensation of his hands gripping his shoulders. 

Something familiar. 

Something wrong. 

Very. 

Wrong.

He flashed his tusks in warning, what had he done wrong? Why was he being jumped? 

“I saw you back there with my pals.” the taller boy growled at him. “You think you’re better than them huh? Think your cute looks can get you special treatment is that it?!” 

_What?!_ Techno flattened his ears, staring downwards, away from the boy’s gaze as he fought the twisting sensation in his chest beginning to rise to his throat. 

The voices began to hiss. 

_Bad…_

_Bad…_

_Hurt…_

_Bad…_

_He’s going to kill you…_

_Touch…_

_Don’t touch me…_

_Don’t touch…_

“Don’t touch me.” he swallowed, trying to keep his voice neutral against the rising bile in his throat. His hands were shaking. 

“Is that all you know how to say pretty boy?!” the boy gripped his shoulders, lifting him off his feet against the wall. 

Techno forced himself to stay still. 

He didn’t want to ruin this for Wilbur. As much as every part of him wanted to scream, to bite, to claw this boy’s skin off, he didn’t want to ruin Wilbur’s chance at friendship. 

He may not have understood what Wilbur saw in these teens, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want his brother to be happy. 

“Now that your bro ain't here, lemme tell ya something cutie.” The hybrid held Techno at eye level, grabbing his chin upwards to face him. 

The twisting sensation became a clawing as the voices began to shriek. 

_He’s going to kill you…_

_He’s going to kill you…_

_Wants you dead…_

_Hurt you…_

_Hurt him…_

_Not like momma…_

_Make him hurt…_

_He’ll hurt you…_

_He’ll hurt momma…_

The boy before him began to morph in Techno’s vision. His face bulged and twisted, tearing into a toothy mass before flashing into a familiar, cruel face. 

“If you wanna stay here, ya gotta play by the rules.” the face began to ooze with blood and black bile. “Firstly, ya gotta apologise to my friends back there, can’t have any of your high and mighty better than thou bullshit you keep pulling!” 

Techno shook his head, clenching his eyes shut against the vision. 

This wasn’t happening! This wasn’t happening! 

He knew it wasn’t real, there was no way it could be real! 

But the hands gripping his shoulders, the voice, the cruel tinge of spite-

“Maybe if we add another scar to your pretty face,” a claw traced the white line that crossed from his forehead to his cheek. “You’ll learn a bit of respect-” 

Techno kneed the boy sharply in the groin, barreling him over with a scream as he finally snapped. 

“Don’t touch me!” he shrieked. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” 

The voices began to chant in unison. 

_Blood!_

_Blood!_

_Blood!_

_BLOOD!_

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_

_MAKE HIM PAY!_

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_

He rolled away from the boy, clapping his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to drown out the voices. 

“Shut up!” he screamed. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” 

He didn’t want to hurt the other teen. He didn’t want to fight him. He didn’t want to ruin Wilbur’s friendships. 

But he didn’t want to _be_ hurt either. 

He didn’t want to relive his nightmares. 

Not like this. 

Not in daylight, not where people could see. 

He hugged his arms around himself as he backed away from the teen, shaking his head. 

The boy groaned, staggering back to his feet, glaring. His eyes meeting Techno’s, boring holes into him. 

Those eyes, that stare, that unrelenting connection of spite and anger that was thrown into his being. 

It hurt his chest. 

“Oh you little bitch!” the bear hybrid snarled. 

Normally, Techno found that a warning would be enough to leave him alone. 

Normally, when a warning wasn’t enough, a swift blow to the nuts or face would be enough to send a full message. 

Normally, they didn’t take a swing back at him. 

The wind was knocked from his lungs as the bear hybrid shoved his knee into Techno’s stomach, barrelling him to the ground with a hard slamming sensation to his back. His vision flashed white as he felt his skull collide with the ground, then red as the teen’s knee dug into his gut and he felt fists slamming into his sternum. 

_BLOOD!_

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!_

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD KING!_

_BLOOD!_

_MAKE HIM PAY!_

_GIVE US!_

_GIVE US BLOOD!_

_SPILL HIS BLOOD!_

Techno flung his hands up to block, only for them to be pinned beneath clawed fingers as a horrible, crushing pain erupted from his collarbone and shoulder. 

He screamed as he felt his collar bone snap. Hot blood gushed from his neck, spilling out onto his chest as he frantically kicked at his assailant’s torso above him. 

His attacker only tightened his grip on his wrists, his teeth clenching down tightly against his shoulder. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes, whimpering as the pain burned through his collar and neck, letting himself go limp in the hopes the boy would loosen his grip. 

He did. 

Techno took his chance. 

He freed a hand, slashing his claws across his attacker’s face before slamming both feet into the teen’s chest, kicking him off of him. 

He saw red. 

The voices screamed. 

With a snarl he let himself go.

He lunged at the boy, the pain of his wounds numbing as he felt a frenzy boil forth from his throat and out his mouth. He slammed head first into the teen’s gut, burying his teeth and tusks into the soft flesh beneath his shirt. 

Blood burst into his mouth as he gnashed his teeth, wrapping his clawed arms around the hybrid’s torso, pinning him to the ground as he buried his face in the blood. 

He tore, digging his tusks into the skin and muscle and shredded fabric. The voices screeched in delight at the metallic taste of blood that washed across his tongue, he felt his heart race, his own blood boiling at the sensation. The screams of the other teen were little more than a faint buzzing within his ears. 

And then he felt something latch around his throat, prying him off. 

He returned the motion, locking his fingers around the bear hybrid’s neck. He squeezed. 

The hands around his throat tightened in response. 

And then he was no longer in the ruins, no longer fighting the other boy. He was in a checkered tiled room. The walls were tall. There was gold gilding across them. There was blood in his mouth. A woman’s screams echoed in his ears. 

A familiar man’s face was glaring down at him. 

A familiar man’s hand was crushing his throat. 

A familiar man had thrown him against the wall. 

A familiar man was screaming. 

“....Te….” 

Techno screamed. 

The man grabbed his shoulders. 

“...Tech….” 

Techno clawed at the man as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. 

“....Techno….please…”

His vision grew dark. 

“Come on Tech!” Philza’s voice broke through the haze that had begun to cloud his mind. “Come on Tech! Please!” he felt pressure on his chest. “Please breathe! Please breathe for me! Techno breathe! Breathe!” 

Air rushed into his lungs and he gasped, his eyes snapping open. Philza’s terrified face leaned over him. 

“Fuck!” he felt Phil’s arms around him as the man pulled him close. “Fuck! Techno! Oh thank gods!” 

His head was buzzing. His chest ached. His throat hurt. His shoulder was screaming in agony. He whimpered, burying his face into Philza’s shoulder. 

He still tasted blood in his mouth.

[Technoblade Concept Art by Saltsartwork (me) on instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/CKBgUhspMGl/)


	2. " Even while we sleep, We will find you, Acting on your best behaviour" - Tears for Fears 'Everybody Wants to Rule The World'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many years ago...Wilbur starts have doubts about his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: description of strangulation, blood, mauling, gore, heavily implied psychosis symptoms, heavily implied child abuse
> 
> Hey guys! I know this is earlier than one full week but I finally got a few more chapters set up and written so I feel confident in releasing this one a bit early. :) Sorry it's a bit short. Next chapter is going to be tear jerker so uh, yeah. Enjoy! And don't worry, there will be more family fluff and soft scenes further on, just not this chapter. Or the next one.  
> (Side story project is coming along faster than I thought too, how would you feel if I released a chapter early? And does the link for the concept art in the last chapter work for everyone? I'm still trying to figure out how to post the image directly into the document so you don't have to open up a separate page. My computer is old and weird.)  
> Thanks for reading!

Many Years Ago 

Wilbur wanted to puke. 

He clapped his hand over his mouth at the sight before him. 

Techno’s face was covered in blood and gore, his eyes had rolled back into his head, unconscious. His hands were still locked around the bear hybrid’s throat above him, the hybrid’s own hands squeezing tightly around Techno’s neck. The bear hybrid was still awake, screaming at the pink haired teen. 

Neither were letting go of the death-lock they had put the other into. 

Wilbur had heard Techno scream not long after he had noticed the bear hybrid disappear from the group. While he had hoped for the best about the other teens, he realised fairly quickly, and with a horrible twinge of regret, his trust had been misplaced. 

He had run after the screams, the other teens following confusedly behind. And had now stumbled across the gruesome sight. 

“Techno!” he shrieked. 

His brother made no response, his hands still locked around the bear hybrid’s neck. His lips had turned blue. 

Wilbur balled his hands into fists and lunged, only for hands to pull him back. 

“Let me go!” he struggled against the hands. 

“Don’t!” Schlatt’s voice rang through his ears. “Elm will fucking kill you man!” 

“That’s my brother! Let me go!” Wilbur struggled against his friend’s hands. 

“Phil!” He finally shrieked. “Phil help!” 

“Don’t drag your dad into this you idiot!” Schlatt pulled him away from the two boys, the others crowding back. “I’ll take care of Elm! You jus-” 

A streak of black and green shot past Wilbur’s vision, followed by a sickening cracking sound as Phil slammed himself against Elm, sending him tumbling away from his son 

Wilbur broke free of Schlatt’s grip, bolting to Phil’s side. 

“Tech-” he skid to a stop as Phil put a hand up. 

“Get back!” the blonde snapped. “He could hurt you!” 

Wilbur nodded, stepping back, his heart pounding in fear as Phil began chest compressions on his brother. 

_Oh gods!_

He wrung his hands. 

_Oh fuck! Oh fuck I’m sorry!_

Techno’s shoulder was gushing blood, one of his arms was bleeding. His lips were blue. His eyes were glassy. Lifeless. 

He wasn’t breathing. 

“Please!” Phil begged. “Please Tech! Breathe for me mate! Breathe!” 

Wilbur jumped as he heard a roar from where Elm had fallen, his heart plummeted as he saw the boy dragging himself to his feet, his stomach ripped to shreds. The bear hybrid swung his clawed hands, charging at Phil. 

“No you don’t fucker!” Wilbur heard Schlatt shout as the horned boy bolted into Elm’s path, slamming his head hard into the bear hybrid’s skull. 

Elm staggered back, swaying, before falling hard to the ground, unconscious. 

Schlatt wobbled slightly on his feet, rubbing at his horns before giving a shaky thumbs up to Wilbur. 

It was then Wilbur heard a sharp gasp. Techno’s back arched as his chest heaved, finally inhaling, before curling on his side, coughing. Phil knelt beside him, stroking his head. 

“You with me mate?” he said quietly. 

Wilbur saw his brother claw up at Phil’s coat, whimpering. The blonde gently wrapped his arms around him, cradling him to his chest before looking back at Wilbur, nodding. 

Wilbur immediately joined the two, tentatively placing a hand on Techno’s good shoulder. 

“You-” he swallowed back the tears he felt forming. “You good? Tech?” 

Techno whimpered, burying his face into Phil’s shoulder. 

He said nothing. 

Behind him he could hear Schlatt yelling at the other teens. He didn’t care what it was about. He finally began to cry, quietly, facing away from the group he had thought were his friends. He didn’t want them to see him like this. 

“Let’s go Phil.” he finally said. 

He didn’t want to stay here anymore. 

That night found him curled by his brother’s side, close enough to feel his warmth, far enough away to keep from hurting him. 

There was a horrible bruise forming on Techno’s throat. His breathing was ragged. He kept whimpering despite being asleep. Occasionally mumbling with a raspy, pained breath for the boys’ mother. 

“It’s okay Tech.” Wilbur lightly took his hand. “I’m here. It’s ok.” 

A faint memory tugged at his mind. A memory of a pink haired woman with a bruise on her eye, singing softly as she held him and his brother close. He quickly shoved the memory down. Another burst into place, an angry man, a similar welt on his brother’s neck. 

Once more, Wilbur flung the memory aside. 

That was the past. 

It wasn’t important anymore. 

They had Phil now. 

They had each other, they had Philza, they had the world to themselves. They didn’t need those memories. They didn’t need that past. 

Wilbur shot upright at the sound of a familiar voice outside the crumbling building they had camped in for the night. 

“Whoa whoa man!” Schlatt’s panicked stammering echoed through the building. Wilbur stood, making his way outside. The hell did that idiot want now?! 

He was met with the sight of Philza, blade to the goat hybrid’s throat, black wings flared in warning. An intimidating silhouette against the dark, indigo sky.

“Get out.” the blonde hissed. 

“Hold up hold up!” Schlatt held his hands up. “I’m unarmed! I didn’t bring anyone-” 

Wilbur saw Phil press the blade further against the boy’s throat. 

“And I don’t care.” the blonde’s feathers fluffed as he bared his teeth. “GET. OUT.” 

Schlatt gulped. “I just wanted to-” 

Phil’s blade drew blood. 

“Okay okay okay okay okay!!!!!” Schlatt backed up, before locking eyes with Wilbur. 

“Wil!” 

Wilbur stiffened. 

“Wil help me out man! I just wanted to- hold up, hold up, stop trying to kill me!” the goat hybrid backed up as Phil continued to press forward, snarling. 

“Phil!” Wilbur called out. “It’s ok!” 

He placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, the blonde’s expression softened but his blade remained raised, eyes narrowed at the horned teen. 

“He did help us, just hear him out.” Wilbur noted.

Phil only blinked. 

“What do you want, Schlatt?” the brunette finally asked the boy. 

The goat hybrid relaxed, rubbing at the thin cut on his neck. 

“Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” Schlatt’s gaze dropped to the ground. “The folks here are kinda assholes. Fiona and Leaf don’t get personal space, Elm’s always looking for a fight. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

Wilbur crossed his arms. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen anyone new around here,” Schlatt continued. “Thought maybe some fresh blood would help change up the group dynamic a bit, get people to calm their shit and such.” 

“I didn’t realise it would get this bad, and I’m sorry I brought you into this mess.” he held a hand out. 

Wilbur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking Schlatt’s hand. 

He wanted to be friends. Even if he wanted nothing more to do with the others, Schlatt at least did try to help him. 

“Apology accepted.” 

“Wil-” 

He gave Philza’s shoulder a squeeze. 

“It’s ok Phil,” he assured his father. “Schlatt did knock out Elm. He’s not as dickish as he looks.” 

He flashed the goat hybrid a grin. 

“Oof, I’m shattered!” Schlatt returned the grin. “After I kept you from running headfirst into a mauling and headbutted that idiot for ya? I’m only ‘not as dickish as I look’? Please Wilby.” 

Wilbur heard the faint hiss of Philza’s sword being sheathed. The hiss continued, lower though. He knew it was from Phil, watching Schlatt with narrowed eyes. 

“I promise, Phil.” Wilbur looked back at his father. “Schlatt’s not that bad. He won’t do anything to us.” 

Phil made no movement of acknowledgment, only leaping up with a flap of his wings to perch atop the crumbling building, watching the hybrid with a hawkish glare. 

“Shit Wilby,” Schlatt chuckled. “It’s like he thinks I’m trying to ask you on a date or something.” 

Wilbur smirked. “Can’t imagine what he’ll be like when I finally do get myself a partner.” 

“How’s Tech?” Schlatt rubbed the base of his horn awkwardly. “Is he...is he ok?” 

“No…” Wilbur looked back at the building, where his twin slept fitfully. 

“I think the fight caused an episode.” he explained. “He normally only gets them after a nightmare or when something triggers it but...the fight…” 

“Again I’m so, so sorry about that!” Schlatt patted Wilbur’s back. “I made sure Elm wouldn’t wake up for at least a week.” 

“To be honest,” he scoffed. “Don’t really want to be friends with him anymore.” 

“How’s...how’s his injuries though?” he asked. 

Wilbur stiffened. 

“Phil... checked him over.” he hugged his arms around himself. “His collarbone is broken, not much we can do about that.” 

“It’s his neck I’m worried about though.” he shuddered, pushing down the old memory that threatened to surface. “It’s not the first time something like that has happened and that’s what worries me. I don’t…” 

He swallowed. “I don’t want him to remember the first time.” 

“What happened the first-” Schlatt shut up as Wilbur glared at him. 

“Ok, sensitive topic, won’t ask.” he muttered. 

“So, uh-” the goat hybrid sat down on a large block of rubble, glancing upwards. “Where are you guys headed next?” 

Wilbur took a seat beside him, following his motions, looking up at the sky as well. 

“Dunno.” 

The sky was a dark indigo, littered with flecks of silver and white. A myriad of crystals upon a velvety blue blanket, framed between the grey obelisks of the ruin. 

“Probably go to that island Phil won’t shut up about.” he said. 

“What island?” Schlatt asked. 

“Some place full of libraries and shit.” Wilbur grinned. “Supposedly the people there are all women.” 

“Ooh! Lucky!” Schlatt elbowed his side. “Gonna get you a girlfriend?” 

“Pfft! More like get the old man one!” Wilbur smirked. “Poor guy needs to get laid.” 

“I heard that you little shit.” Philza’s voice echoed down from his perch. “Do I have to come down there and whoop your ass Wilbur?!”

“See?” Wilbur shrugged. 

“Oh yeah,” Schlatt nodded. “Definitely needs to get laid.” 

“Wilbur go to bed!” Phil snapped. “And you goat boy! Go home!” 

Schlatt stood, stretching. “Well, I guess I’ll take my leave.” 

“See you round Wilby.” he waved as he began to pick his way through the rubble of the ruin. “Stay out of trouble!” 

“Likewise, goat boy!” Wilbur shouted after him. 

“Fuck off!”


	3. "Turn your back on Mother Nature" - Tears for Fears 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghostbur can't remember things.  
> Tubbo yells at Philza, Philza yells at Tubbo, this family needs counselling.  
> Quackity is scheming.  
> Sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: implied house arrest, description of blood and injury to the ankle, graphic description of head wound, Philza finally snaps at Tubbo, implied PTSD 
> 
> I've finished more chapters to this instalment so I feel more comfortable posting a bit more regularly, at least until I catch up to where I've currently written. Sorry for the sad chapter again, I promise things will get less depressing later on.  
> Hope you guys enjoy! :)

Current Day

Ghostbur watched as Phil paced through the kitchen, rummaging about the shelves and pantry, limping. The shackle had begun to wear angry sores onto his ankle. 

“Ghostbur?” the man called out. 

The shade drifted up to where he stood, staring confusedly into the pantry. 

“You don’t happen to know where my chalk’s gone, do you?” Phil asked. 

Ghostbur shook his head. “I don’t think so Phil, I’ve only been here for two hours.” 

Philza frowned, rubbing his ear, jingling the layers of golden jewels that dangled about his face. “I think someone’s hiding my supplies.” 

“Do you think they’re onto you?” Ghostbur floated up through the shelf, inspecting the pantry. There was no sign of his father’s chalk stash, nor his candles it seemed. The tin of caustic salts was still there, however, hidden in plain sight with its label of ‘Wilbur’s Sand Collection: DO NOT TOUCH!’ He smiled at the sight, he didn’t ever have a sand collection, but it was nice that Philza remembered his love for the grainy snack as a child. Even if the man did always used to shout at him to spit it out. 

Maybe he should start up a sand collection? Now that he was dead, what was stopping him? It wasn’t like Phil could berate him for trying to eat it now, he couldn’t eat anything anymore. 

“I’ve no doubt they are.” Philza frowned. 

_ Oh right! _ They were discussing the missing chalk and candles, Ghostbur remembered. Wow death sure left him scatterbrained, he thought. 

“Who though?” Ghostbur floated up to the rafters, eyeing inside the house from his vantage point in case they had missed something. “You don’t think it’s Fundy, do you?” 

“Hmmm.” Phil sat down at the kitchen table, rubbing at his earrings. “Fundy would be too obvious, he spends most days here, he’d be too suspicious.” 

“If they wanted to be sneaky about taking my stuff,” he continued. “I don’t think they’d choose a thief who was spending all his time at my house.” 

“Maybe Ranboo?” Ghostbur suggested. 

“That’s a possibility,” Phil shrugged. “But, he’s only been here maybe three times since I was put under house arrest. Unless he’s sneaking in when I’m asleep…” 

“It’s not Quackity.” He added. “Boy’s only just woken up and there is no way in hell he’d be quiet if he visited me.” 

“So,” Ghostbur drifted about the rafters. “That leaves possibly Ranboo. Maybe Tubbo?” 

“Maybe you?” he saw Philza look up at him. 

“No.” Ghostbur smiled. “I don’t have a reason to take your witch stuff. I’m dead!” 

“True…” his father’s gaze fell back to the table as he sighed. “There is that.” 

“Besides,” Ghostbur floated to the man’s side. “You put wards up over your stuff anyhow, spirits can’t touch it unless you give permission. And you haven’t given me permission.” 

“No, that I have not.” Phil smiled. 

“Why not?” Ghostbur tilted his head at the man. He remembered very little about his past, but the memories of Philza that he did have didn’t explain why he wouldn’t be letting him near his supplies. Was it something Alive-Bur had done? Or was it just a quirk of Phil’s? 

“Well for one thing,” Philza gingerly stretched his wings, wincing as the movement tugged his still aching wound. “I don’t know what would happen if a ghost performed any rituals, or touched certain items.” 

“I’d rather not lose you a second time to something stupid like a jar of salts falling on your head.” the man smirked. 

That was good, Ghostbur thought. It was good to see his father joking. Was it good he was joking about his death? He wasn’t sure exactly but that didn’t matter, Phil seemed happy and that was good. 

“Phil?” Ghostbur was struck with a bout of curiosity. 

“Mm?” Phil fluffed his wings, carefully inspecting some of the broken pinions as he began preening them. 

That was also good, Ghostbur thought, that he was well enough to take care of his wings. 

“Did I ever use your witch stuff when I was alive?” he asked, watching the sunlight catching the shafts of the black feathers. The lights scattering across them, creating flashes of purples, greens, blues, as each feather shifted. 

“Few times, yeah.” Phil smoothed out a large flight pinion between his fingers. 

“You were more interested in the potion making aspect than the rituals behind them.” he explained. 

Ghostbur folded his hands under his chin, floating above the man, like a child waiting for a story. Phil seemed to take the hint. 

“I think I tried to get you introduced to the spiritual part of it,” the man turned to a different feather.

“But you really just wanted to make tinctures, potions, salves.” He listed. “I thought for a bit you might have been interested in taking a more healing route, but…” 

He chuckled. “But then I find you’d been selling home brewed hallucinogens out of an old world vehicle.” 

“Not what I expected but,” he shrugged. “Can’t exactly say I was surprised.” 

“What was I doing before the drug van Phil?” Ghostbur asked, curious now. 

The man thought for a moment. 

“Well,” he plucked out a small piece of down that had curled up oddly. “You were...you decided you wanted to settle shortly after Fundy was born-” 

“Oh yeah!” Ghostbur grinned. “With Sally! I remember her.” 

“She was lovely.” he sighed, the pleasant, brief image of a pair of amber eyes and autumn hair flashed in his mind. Or what he would have thought of as his mind. 

“We made a cabin on Themiscyra.” he tried to pry further into the memory, the taste of salty sea spray washed across his tongue as the image of a young woman in his yellow sweater, too large for her, laughed with a toothy grin. 

“Fundy was before the cabin though.” he began to ramble. “He was just a baby, I thought it would be good to have a house of our own, you know? We were lost... on that...lost…” 

Lost where? His mind was blank where that memory had been. 

“Yeah yeah, we’d been out at sea, oh and you and Techno were on the boat with us...I think?” the memory became fuzzy. As if a static had washed over it. 

The sounds of seagulls and waves crashing on a shore were interjected harshly by a horrified scream, cruel laughter, the sudden sensation of water in his lungs.

“Ghostbur?” 

Ghostbur shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the images that threatened to drown him, rubbing his eyes until he saw blue. 

“I don’t…” he pulled his hands away from his face, dripping in blue ink. “I don’t think I want to...I don’t think I like those memories.” 

Phil seemed taken aback. “Of Sally?” 

“No no no no!” Ghostbur stared at the blue. 

What memories had been talking about?

He had no bad memories. 

“Sally was wonderful.” he smiled again. “I really loved her.” 

“That’s...that’s good to hear.” Phil nodded, trailing off. 

Why was Phil so quiet suddenly? 

“Phil?” Ghostbur drifted up to him. “Did I do something wrong again?” 

Before his father had a chance to answer, the door to the house was swung open with a shaky hand. 

Tubbo stood in the doorway. A large chain with a shackle on one end was held in his hand. 

“Oh!” Ghostbur waved at his younger brother. “Hello Tu-”

“Get out.” the boy pointed outside. 

“Wha-” Ghostbur was interrupted once more. 

“Out!” the horned boy snapped. “I need to talk with Phil.” 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say, Tubbo,” Ghostbur heard a hint of venom laced in his father’s voice. “You can say in front of your brother too.” 

The horned boy seemed to fume for a minute, before stomping his way to the two in the kitchen, tossing the chain onto the table. 

“I know what you’re doing Phil.” he hissed. “You think I don’t know what a disintegration ritual looks like?” 

Ghostbur drifted back up to the rafters, noticing a shadow just outside the still open doorframe. 

Was that Quackity? 

“You can’t just do one thing for me, can you Phil?!” he heard Tubbo’s voice raise. “Just one thing!” 

Ghostbur floated closer to the door, the young man standing just outside it was indeed Quackity, though it was only his dark hair and beanie that could identify him. The left side of his face was mangled beyond recognition. 

Metal wires, bleeding from his movements, held his jaw in place. His left eye was swollen shut, a deep indent on his cheek and brow bones was plastered with a crusted strip of gauze and salve. 

His cheek was split into a permanent grin, a few of his teeth were missing. 

Despite the false, gory smile, Ghostbur could still tell the man was indeed smirking.

What had happened to him?

“You think you can keep me here, Tubbo?” 

Ghostbur turned back to see Philza, arms crossed, wings flared ever so slightly. His face was calm, but his eyes seemed to water. 

The horned boy before him fumed for a minute, grabbing at one of his horns, sputtering in frustration before finally stiffening. 

“I granted a pardon!” he seethed. “All you have to do- all you HAD to do, was stay in your house until the winter solstice!” 

“But no!” Tubbo flung his hands up, beginning to pace. “No! You just had to try to escape! You just had to start doing your stupid little witchy bullshit and sneak out didn’t you?!” 

“He didn’t escape.” Ghostbur added. 

“Shut up!” 

He flinched as his brother snapped back at him, glaring at him through reddened eyes. 

“That’s enough, Tubbo!” Phil stood, looming over the boy. 

“Don’t ever,  _ ever, _ ” the man’s voice darkened. “Talk to your brother like that again, boy.” 

Tubbo seemed to almost stand on his toes to glare back at the man’s eyes. 

“I will talk to whoever I damn well want, however I damn well want, Phil!” he hissed. 

“Stand down, Tubbo.” Phil ordered, pointing at a chair in the kitchen as if scolding a small child. “Let’s talk this-” 

“I’m the gods damned President Phil!” Tubbo shouted. “I will not ‘stand down’ to shit!” 

“And I’m your father, boy.” Phil’s voice softened slightly. “Sit down.” 

“I am the fucking leader of this nation-” Tubbo’s eyes began to water. 

“You are SIXTEEN!” 

Ghostbur flinched at the sound of Phil’s shout. 

“You should be out exploring!” Phil’s voice cracked. “Playing with your friends! Finding your first love! Learning about the world! Making the most of your life!” 

“Not whatever the fuck this is!” the man gestured at Tubbo’s rumpled suit. “Leading a troupe of lost children who’s game has gone way too far? You really think this-this wreck of a nation is something you should be trying to carry? For gods’ sake you are a child!” 

Ghostbur felt the room grow cold as he saw Tubbo ball his hands up into fists, no longer looking Phil in the eye. 

“And who’s fault is that?” the boy sniffled. 

Ghostbur felt himself sink as he saw Philza’s eyes widen slightly, before the man slumped back to the kitchen table, silent. 

“Quackity put the-put...fuck.” Tubbo bolted from the house. 

Ghostbur could only watch as Quackity, a smug grin on his face, installed the new chain, locking it in place around Phil’s bleeding ankle. The man didn’t even bother to resist, the shade noted, he just...he just buried his face in his hands. 

That was until Quackity stood to leave. 

“Hey kid.” Phil didn’t move from where he sat. 

“Yeah birdie?” the young man smirked. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” Phil finally raised his head, a dark malice swirled within his blue eyes, the likes of which Ghostbur swore he could have seen once before, but could never remember. 

“About how you’ve been treating my sons,” Philza straightened, unfurling his wings slightly, the movement causing the chain about his ankle to clink. 

“Yeah?” Quackity wiped a bit of blood from his wired jaw. 

“Get fucked.” Phil spat. 

The dark haired boy merely laughed, waving a hand as he closed the door behind him. 

Ghostbur floated in the rafters, watching in utter confusion at the scene that had unfolded about him. 

Did...did Alivebur have something to do with this? 

He shook his head as a loud static filled his mind, rubbing at his eyes until he saw blue once more. 

Blue was nice. 


	4. "Everybody wants... " -Tears for Fears 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Techno go for a little ride through the snow.   
> Tommy sees a place that reminds him of something bad.   
> Techno realises he may not be as healed as he thought he was.   
> Both have a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Panic attack, mentions of a wound 
> 
> (I've begun to finish more chapters, so at the moment whenever I finish one chapter, I'll publish another. So far, things are going well with that so hopefully I'll be able to keep up the pace and release chapters more frequently. Again, sorry for the sad chapter, I didn't realise just how much more angst was going on in this instalment than in previous ones holy crap! I need to write some fluff soon or I'm gonna go nuts.)

“So…..an army?”

Techno glanced over at his little brother, bundled up in a thick, blue cloak lined with fluffy bearskin. Tommy was riding the mare he had purchased for the boy, a dappled grey with a smooth gait and patient personality, far easier for the boy to manage than Carl. 

_ Horsey! _

_ New horsey! _

_ Friend! _

_ Clip clop! _

_ Friend! _

_ Food- _

_ FRIEND! _

“Indeed.” Techno patted Carl’s neck as the horses trudged through the snow. “An army.” 

“Of what?” Tommy asked. “Withers?” 

“Pfft!” Techno rolled his eyes. “You think I’d waste all my Withers on a single attack? Hell nah!” 

It had only been a day since he had revealed the vault to Tommy. Only two days since he had found the boy. Only five since his failed execution. 

Techno winced as a misstep from Carl sent a jolt of pain through his chest. He still hadn’t healed. He was doing better, he knew that. The healing potions had been slowly mending his broken bones and torn ligaments back together. He was still horribly sore, however. He tired easily and adjusting to his new blind spot was headache inducing. 

_ Should be resting… _

_ Rest… _

_ Sleep… _

_ Hurt… _

_ Hurt… _

_ Hurts so much… _

_ Can’t sleep… _

_ War… _

_ Plan for war… _

_ They’re going to kill you… _

_ He’s going to kill you… _

_ Kill… _

He couldn’t afford to rest just yet. He had to be certain, absolutely certain, that he was prepared for the next step in his plan. 

“So then, we’re recruiting people?” Tommy wrapped his cloak tighter about himself. 

“Dogs.” Techno stated, gingerly clutching at the still sore wound in his chest. “We’re recruiting dogs.” 

He grinned as he heard Tommy stammer. 

“Dogs?!” 

“Dogs.” Techno gave him a mischievous wink. 

“Wha-why?” The boy’s eyes were so confused. 

It was amusing. 

“Because,” Techno drew his cloak over his chest, hiding his hand kneading at the still aching wound. 

“For as much coin as I own, I can’t afford to pay my recruits in anything other than what I can hunt.” he explained. “However, I can hunt quite a bit.” 

“But, wouldn’t L’Manberg not be able to fight them though? Cause of the no killing... pets... law…” he saw Tommy’s mind suddenly click into place. “...Oh.” 

Techno gave the boy a light tap on the head with a claw. “You see?” 

The boy glared at him. “Thought you were a strategist, not a sadist!” 

“I can be both.” Techno flashed his tusks. 

“You’re gonna make them fight a bunch of dogs?!” Tommy snapped. “The fuck’s wrong with you?!” 

“Many things.” The older man laughed. “But, they don’t  _ have _ to fight the dogs.” 

He held a hand up innocently. 

“If they want to keep those laws that their little government they love so much has set up,” he shrugged. “Then they can just surrender peacefully. No dog has to be slain by their hands.” 

“You’re sick.” Tommy shook his head. 

“Alrighty then smart guy,” Techno leaned an elbow onto the pommel of his saddle, unhooking his boots from the stirrups as he stretched his back out from the movement. 

“How would you have done it?” he then leaned back, stretching out his legs, perching atop the massive charger like a carefree child. 

“...show off…” he heard Tommy mutter. 

It wasn’t  _ actually _ showing off, Techno thought, Carl was just a very trusting horse. To him anyhow. 

“I’d have…” he watched as his little brother pondered for a long moment, scratching at his hair in frustration. 

“I guess I’d have just used the Withers.” The statement sounded more like a question. 

“To do what?” Techno raised an eyebrow. 

“To burn down the...the…” Tommy trailed off. 

“To kill your friends?” 

He saw the boy stiffen. 

“No, no...no no no…” his younger brother shook his head. “No I wouldn’t do that! I wouldn’t!” 

“Why not?” Techno pressed a bit more, hoping the boy would come to understand his situation. 

“I don’t…” Tommy stammered, his hand clutching at something around his neck. “I don’t want to hurt Tubbo.” 

There it was. 

“Neither do I.” Techno fitted his boots back into the stirrups. “If I can help it, I don’t want to have to fight the people I called my family.” 

“I will, however,” his eyes narrowed. “Beat the ever loving shit out of the people who decided to do this-” 

He pointed at the massive welt across his face. “To me.” 

To his surprise, he saw Tommy nod. “Fair enough.” 

_ Vengeance… _

_ Someone hurt Tommy… _

_ Hurt the baby… _

_ Baby was kicked… _

_ Hurt the baby… _

_ Tommy hurt… _

_ Tommy angry… _

_ Angry boy… _

_ Vengeance… _

_ Make them pay… _

“Hey Techno?” 

“Heh?” the older man let Carl’s reins rest against the pommel of his saddle, watching his younger brother curiously. 

The boy seemed to shift uncomfortably, his eyes wandering about the snowy field they had entered. 

“Where exactly are we going to get these dogs?” Tommy continued to scan their surroundings, cautiously. 

“There’s a village down by the coast that’s got a good rep amongst the sled dog folks around here.” Techno felt a slight prickling on the back of his neck. “Why?” 

“I don’t…” Tommy pulled the reins on his mare to a halt. “I don’t feel...I don’t think we should go this way.” 

“Why not?” The older man asked, now scanning their surroundings himself. What had gotten the boy so concerned? 

“It’s...It’s nothing.” Tommy shook his head, tapping his heels to the mare’s sides. 

The dappled horse trotted beside Carl. 

“It’s nothing.” Tommy said once more, smiling. 

Techno knew the smile was fake. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, spurring Carl a bit faster to keep pace with the mare. 

“It’s just…” the boy’s head seemed to droop for a bit before springing up once more, a confused look of elation and fear crossing his face. 

“It’s the perfect place for a run don’t you think?” 

Techno’s heart nearly dropped at what he knew the boy was about to do. 

“Tommy don’t you fucking-” 

The boy spurred the mare forward, flinging up a trail of white powder in his wake. 

“Tommy!” Techno tapped his heels to Carl’s sides and the charger leapt after the dappled grey, eager for a chase. 

It was hardly a chase however, Carl was bred for efficiency, the mare for patience. He closed the gap almost as quickly as it had been made. Techno grabbed the other horse’s reins, drawing both to a stop. 

“What the fuck Tommy?!” he snapped. “You don’t run your fucking horse through the snow like that! You don’t know these trails! You can’t see shit under that snow! You could fall into a hole or hidden river you fucking dumbass!” 

“Not to mention you can shock your horse!” He continued. “You get them all heated up from running and then you walk them home covered in sweat in the cold?! Don’t fucking do that to your horse!” 

It was then he noticed the boy’s eyes had glazed over, his brother was slowly slumping forward in the saddle, his face pale. 

“Tommy?” Techno touched his shoulder. “Tommy are you with me?” 

“I can’t-I can’t be here…” the boy suddenly fell, collapsing hard into the snow, gagging. 

“Tommy!” Techno dropped from Carl and rushed his brother’s side. 

The boy was doubled over, his hands clutching at his stomach as he gasped, coughing and choking on air. Strands of spit dripped from his mouth with each dry heave, his eyes were wide in panic. 

“I cant!” he choked. “I can’t be here! I can’t be here! I can’t be here!” 

Techno grabbed the boy’s shoulders, pulling him close, feeling his pulse on his neck. Was he poisoned? Did he eat something bad? Was he sick? He was probably sick right? 

Or was this something else? 

“Tech-” The boy gagged. “Techno I can’t! I can’t be here! I can’t!” 

Techno felt his heart race. 

He knew what this was now. 

The boy must have come this way before, when he was still searching for a place to hide. Away from Dream. 

This place had dredged up a memory he wasn’t supposed to see. 

Techno wrapped his cloak around the boy, pressing him close to his chest. 

How the fuck had Phil done it all those years ago?

“Tommy.” he said softly, stroking the boy’s hair. “I’m here, you’re okay.” 

“Can you match my breathing?” he asked. “Just breathe with me okay? Can you do that for me kid?” 

He couldn’t tell if Tommy had heard him or not, but he tried to slow his breathing anyway, hoping the boy would attempt to match with him. 

He stayed that way for a long while, his little brother buried within his cloak, Tommy’s breathing gradually slowing, matching his own as the boy’s coughing began to lessen. Eventually, the boy seemed to have calmed enough to speak. 

“...wanna...go home...Phil…” 

Techno winced. 

“...wanna go home…” 

He scooped the boy up in his arms, carrying him back to Carl. 

“I know, kid.” Techno whispered softly. “I know. We’ll go home.” 

A dark thought plagued his mind as he began the ride back to his cabin. 

He was going to fucking murder Dream. 


	5. “It was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think.” ― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Techno asks Phil to teach him to fight. Philza doesn't quite know how to respond to his boys wanting to grow up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: input overload for a character (overwhelmed), references to past injury
> 
> (Yo!!!!! I'm on a roll! I finished two more chapters and felt confident enough to post another for yall today! Thanks for reading! :)

Many Years Ago 

Techno limped beside Phil, his eyes staring down at the ground. His shoulder still ached from the fight three days ago but if he was being honest, it was his throat that hurt the worst. Speaking was next to impossible, he could barely manage a raspy whisper and breathing stung with each inhale. 

That stupid boy had left dark, purple welts across his pale skin. 

The markings made his blood boil. 

He couldn’t look at his reflection in anything without the voices screaming. 

_ Bad man… _

_ Bad man hurts… _

_ Hurts…  _

_ Kill him… _

_ Kill the bad man… _

_ Can’t fight… _

_ Can’t fight back… _

_ Coward… _

_ Coward… _

_ COWARD… _

Techno slammed his hands against his ears, a strangled cry leaving his lips as he tried to shut up the voices. 

He felt a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Tech?” 

He didn’t need to look to know it was Phil and grabbed the man’s coat, flinging it over his face. 

He could feel Phil’s hand lightly patting his back. “Need a minute?” 

Techno nodded, sensing his father removing the satchel he carried before sitting down on the side of the road. Techno followed him, leaning into him as he waited for the voices to quiet. Ever since the fight, they had been growing increasingly louder. 

More insistent. 

More bloodthirsty. 

Hungry. 

_ Hungry… _

_ Hungry… _

_ Blood… _

_ Need more… _

_ Blood… _

He felt so stupid. 

So stupid and useless and weak. 

How the hell was he supposed to live like this? How the hell was supposed to live with the constant, horrid dread that he could do nothing to protect himself? 

Techno snarled, rocking back and forth on his heels, burying his face into Phil’s coat. 

He hated it. He hated it. He HATED IT! He hated feeling helpless! 

He hated BEING helpless! 

_ Coward… _

_ Coward…  _

_ Can’t fight… _

_ Coward… _

_ Useless… _

What would he do if this happened again? If someone else attacked him? What if Phil wasn’t there? What if Phil was, but was hurt? What if he or Wilbur was hurt? What if they died? 

_ What if… _

_ What if… _

_ What if… _

Techno screamed into the coat before flinging it off of his face, staring teary eyed up at Philza and Wilbur. 

“...teach me…” he rasped. 

“Wha-” Phil blinked, confused as Techno grabbed hold of his father’s hand. 

“...Teach me...to...fight…” he insisted. 

His throat began to sting once more as he tried to speak. 

Philza gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Tech,” he sighed. “I don’t-I don’t think-” 

“Please!” Techno hissed. 

Philza stiffened, his face hardening. 

“Techno,” his voice was firm. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“And I don’t want you or Wilbur to be hurt!” Techno stood, flinging Phil’s hand aside. “I don’t want you to be hurt because of me!” 

He saw Wilbur nearly jump from where he stood, some ways away, his hand slipping on the guitar it held. 

He flinched inwardly, calming his voice as he curled a lock of hair around his hand. 

“I need to...know.” gods his voice hurt! 

“I need to know...how to fight.” he tried to explain. “I don’t want you...or Wil...to be hurt...trying to help me…” 

Phil stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I understand, Tech.” he sighed. “But  _ I  _ don’t want to hurt you either.” 

“But-” 

“What if you have an episode?” Phil gave his shoulder a squeeze. “What then?” 

Techno began to fume. Why couldn’t his father understand?

“Then I have an episode!” he snapped. “And it goes for a bit! And then I continue learning!” 

“I’m not made of glass, Philza!” he pushed the hand from his shoulder, turning on a heel before continuing down the road. 

_ Not glass… _

_ Broken… _

_ Already broken… _

_ Glass… _

_ Not glass… _

_ Glass cuts… _

_ Cut… _

_ Glass… _

“I’m not glass!” he continued to mumble as he heard his twin’s footsteps running to catch up to him, Philza’s own following shortly behind. 

“Hey Tech?” he didn’t look up as he heard Wilbur match pace with him. 

“You know he’s just worried right?” 

Techno huffed, clenching his hand around the edges of his hair. 

“I know.” he took the ends of his hair and began to run it across his lips, keeping his eyes on the dusty ground beneath him. 

“I know that.” he rasped, gods when would his voice stop hurting?

He needed tea. 

_ Tea is nice… _

_ Tea… _

_ Burn… _

_ Burn the throat… _

_ Honey… _

_ Tea… _

“I know that.” he continued, finally looking up at Wilbur. 

His twin still held the guitar they had picked up from the most recent ruin. Battered and with a few strings missing, it surprisingly had held up well. The sound it made was still pure and rich, if a bit rusty.

“But I’m not a child, Wil.” he insisted, tugging the ends of his hair. “We’re not kids! And I’m not this-this fragile little thing he seems to think I am!” 

“I know I get hurt easily!” he continued to rant. “I know I can’t hold my own in a fight! But if he just let me- if he- If…” 

He swallowed the tears forming in his eyes. “I don’t want to be stuck relying on him!” 

“How so?” Wilbur asked, beginning to pluck at the guitar strings once more. 

Techno twitched his ears, noticing Phil had kept some distance between himself and the two boys. That was nice of him, he thought. 

He needed to vent to Wilbur. 

“It’s not that I don’t love him.” he tried to explain. “I do, I really do. I just...I don’t know.” 

“I guess I want to be more like you.” there it was, the statement that had been plaguing his mind for so long, he finally dredged it up. 

“You just, people like you.” he kicked a small rock in front of him, letting it clatter down the dusty road. “You’re always able to make friends. People don’t immediately hate you or think you’re weird or shit.” 

“To be fair,” Wilbur struck a short chord on the guitar. “Most people we meet are assholes.” 

“Yeah but even assholes like you.” Techno elbowed his brother playfully. 

“Ow! Dick.” Wilbur elbowed him back. 

“But why would that have anything to do with you wanting Phil to teach you to fight?” he asked. 

Techno leaned his head back, looking at the sky, running the lock of hair under his chin now. 

A small bird flew past, chirping in the cloudless blue above. 

_ Brother… _

_ Wilbur… _

_ Wilbur is respected… _

_ Respect… _

_ Love you Wilbur… _

_ We love you Wilby... _

“Cause as much as I want to be like you,” he sighed. “I know I can’t.” 

He looked back at Wilbur. “So I’m going to be me.” 

“And  _ I _ want to be able to defend myself.” he stated. “If I can’t be like you, then I want to be able to  _ be  _ me. In peace.” 

“You want to scare people into not bothering you?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow. 

“I want people to respect me.” Techno clarified. “I don’t want to be seen as a monster. But I don’t want to be seen as a piece of glass either.”   
“Because I’m not those.” he kicked again at another rock. “I’m not! You get that right?” 

Wilbur grinned. “Tech, I  _ know _ that!” 

“And I know Phil knows that too.” Techno felt his brother put an arm around his shoulder. “He’s just a bit shaken I think.” 

“Yeah…” Techno chewed the ends of his hair. 

“Maybe once you’re well enough,” Wilbur suggested. “We both pull that ‘cute little babies you can’t say no to’ face and see if he caves, ey?” 

Techno chuckled. 

“I don’t know if that would still work, we’re like what, fifteen?” 

Wilbur pouted. “Well  _ I _ still have a baby face.” 

He crossed his arms, hugging the guitar to himself. “I’m gonna make full use of it until I can’t anymore.” 

_ Baby… _

_ Wilbur is a baby… _

_ Twin… _

_ Twin baby… _

_ Baby brother… _

_ We love you Wilbur… _

_ Baby… _

_ Kick the baby… _

“Thanks.” Techno sighed. “Wilby.” 

He grinned as he heard Wilbur cringe at the nickname. “Why does everyone always call me that?!” 


	6. “He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can come as he please.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno realises he's starting to feel the affects of nearly being killed when a certain, dangerous being arrives at his doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief mention of blood it's not major but all the same here be the warning. 
> 
> I actually had to split this chapter up a bit, the original was a bit too long for my taste, also I want to keep you on your toes with a cliffhanger for a bit while I catch up on the rest of the story. I'm stuck a bit on the side arc but if all goes well, I'll start posting it once I've finished this instalment. I have to do a lot of work for university so there's going to be a break coming up in my updates, sorry about that. Still working out how to put images into the work itself instead of just linking to my insta, but for those of you who have liked the image, thank you so much! You're all very lovely, thank you for your wonderful feedback and for reading this fic! I hope you have a wonderful day. :)

Tommy sneezed. 

Techno flinched at the sound, nearly pricking himself with the needle he held. 

They had arrived home about two hours ago. Tommy was still a wreck. Shaking and apologising and sniffling for Phil...occasionally for Dream...his skin damp with a mild fever from having fallen in the snow. Techno had run him a bath and then sent him straight to bed with some hot tea and simple soup. The boy didn’t even bother to protest. 

_ At least he ate. _ Techno eyed the boy from across the room. 

He himself couldn’t. His stomach kept twisting with rage whenever he thought about food, he’d have to wait. 

So he had busied himself with mending his old red cloak. The once white fur lining had grown almost yellow with age, a few brown stains from where blood had splattered were stubbornly refusing to wash out. A wide gash across the side, where Tommy had managed to get in a good hit during the fall of L’Manberg, was what he was attempting to fix for now. 

He grinned, stitching the gash up with gold thread. A sharp contrast to the dark red fabric. He wanted it to show. 

Tommy had never managed to hit him, not even when sparring. While he wished the circumstance had been different, he did still feel a swelling of pride at the memory. 

If only Tommy had understood him then. 

_ Does he understand? _

_ Does he get it now? _

_ Tommy is confused… _

_ Confused.... _

_ Understand? _

_ Tommy… _

_ Baby… _

_ Baby brother… _

He finished the last stitch, running a finger along the crisscrossing of gold thread he had created. It was a clean job, nothing too fancy, but not sloppy either. 

Functional. 

If a bit ostentatious, he smirked. But then again, why bother being subtle? He wasn’t trying to impress anyone but himself, and the stitching was perfect for him. 

He folded the cloak, setting it on the back of his chair before laying a hand on Tommy’s forehead. The boy was still warm, not quite to the point of being in danger of getting sick, but still enough to be concerned. 

He drew his hand away as the boy flinched in his sleep, tugging the blankets up under his chin as he burrowed into the pillows beneath him, mumbling something he couldn’t quite make out. 

Techno sighed, picking up the now empty soup bowl and mug before heading downstairs, closing the door to his room softly. 

He remembered the harsh nights he had suffered through at Tommy’s age. The fear, the nightmares, the ache in his chest whenever he woke. Unable to pinpoint the cause of the pain and panic, he’d had to wait until the emotions left him, sometimes for hours, before he could finally sleep again. 

He was grateful Tommy at least, to his knowledge, didn’t have the voices that he had. 

Techno set the dishes in the sink, giving them a quick rinse, before making his way to the main room. He frowned, the fire was going out. 

He knelt beside the hearth, piling a few logs into it, careful of his wounds, and lightly blew on the embers, encouraging them into small tongues of flame. Finally catching, the flames licked up against the new logs eagerly as he placed his hands near them, massaging the numbed fingers. 

It was then he noticed a faint spot of red seeping from his shirt. 

“Dammit.” he hissed, standing. Had just moving the logs really reopened his wounds that quickly? The hell was wrong with him? 

He’d nearly died, that’s what. He told himself as he made his way back to the kitchen where he kept his linens and potions. 

Of course he’d be healing slowly, he reminded himself. He’d been hit with a fucking anvil and then impaled! If anything, he shouldn’t even be up right now. He needed rest, he needed to heal, but no, he just had to-

Techno froze, a prickling sensation crawled across the back of his neck. He felt his hackles rise. 

His ear twitched as he heard Carl snort from the stable outside, pawing at the ground. 

He wasn’t alone. 

Techno slipped his hand to the knife at his thigh, drawing it quietly as he made his way to the front door, careful to avoid the view of the windows. 

_ Intruder! _

_ Intruder!  _

_ Careful… _

_ Stab him!  _

_ Intruder!  _

_ Kill the intruder!  _

_ They’re going to kill you! _

_ Butcher party!  _

_ They’re back! _

_ They’re back! _

He placed his hand on the door knob, steadying his breath as he heard a single set of footsteps, lightly, barely audible, crunch through the snow outside. 

Growing closer.

Closer.

The scent of metal and blood drifted under the door. 

Techno gripped the knife tightly, ready to fling the door wide, ready to plunge the blade into the intruder’s neck-

A knock sounded from the door. 

“Technoblade?” 

His blood froze. 

“Are you alive?” Dream’s voice, calm and cold, was muffled behind the door.


	7. “The measure of a man is what he does with power.” ― Plato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno plays a very dangerous game with a certain masked man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: non consensual but non sexual touch, mentions of blood, weapons are drawn, LOTS OF TENSION. Also consensual ear piercing, it's not graphic but this is the warning for ya. 
> 
> (Oof my chapter titles are terrible. What even is my theme for this part of the story? I dunno. Anywho, you begged for it, so I delivered. Fear not for the cliffhanger is resolved, mostly. Can you tell I love classic old swashbuckling films with the villains and heroes casually pointing weapons at each other and being impossibly polite while they barter with their lives? Thank you so much for reading today! I've actually finished the draft for this instalment and have begun fully delving into the stand alone side plot! Not sure if I should start posting those chapters yet or wait until this is fully edited and posted or yeah. But yes, thank you all so much for reading, I hope you enjoy :)

“Are you alive?” Dream’s voice, calm and cold, was muffled behind the door. “I know your horse is, I would assume you are too if that’s the case.” 

Techno stiffened. 

Did Dream know about Tommy?

Did Dream know he had him? 

Was he here for him? 

_ Kill him! _

_ KILL! _

_ Kill him! _

_ Hurt Tommy! _

_ Kill him! _

_ CUT HIS THROAT! _

_ DRINK HIS BLOOD! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Shut up! _

_ BLOOD! _

Techno gripped the knife, his knuckles slowly turning white from the pressure. 

If he didn’t let him in, Dream would know for certain he had him. If he let him in though, and Tommy came downstairs…

_ Fuck! _

He opened the door and was met with the cold, faceless stare of the featureless, porcelain doll mask beneath a green hood. 

“Well I’m not dead, yet.” he spat. 

It was possible, stupid yes, but possible, to bluff his way out of this. 

“The hell do you want?” he narrowed his eyes at the cloaked ranger. “I was taking a nap.” 

The masked head tilted slightly, a light chuckle emanated from beneath it. 

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Dream shrugged. “I was just wanting to confirm a few things. Have a talk.” 

“Might I come in?” the mask tilted the other way. “Or are you going to just glare at me in the cold?” 

Techno huffed, opening the door a bit wider, keeping his back to the wall. 

Praying silently to whatever god, prime or otherwise, or maybe some form of sentient luck, that Tommy would stay upstairs. 

And stay silent. 

His hackles shook as Dream walked past him, almost silent against the wooden floor, his hatchet gleaming from his back. 

Techno wondered, why was the man showing his back to him? Dream knew he had a knife, he always had a weapon of some sort, why risk exposing himself so easily? 

Unless he knew something Techno didn’t. 

He closed the door, keeping his eyes on the green cloaked man. 

Dream turned back to him. 

“Really? A knife?” he scoffed. 

Techno shrugged. “Didn’t know who you were.” 

He sheathed the blade back against his thigh. 

“After the Butcher Party decided to invade my territory, well,” he flashed his tusks. “Can’t be too cautious, can we?” 

“Hmm.” Dream drew his cloak off. “Mind if I take a seat?” 

Techno gestured to the two open chairs near the hearth. Dream nodded, tossing his cloak over the back of one before sitting himself down, removing his hatchet from his back and placing it on his lap. Watching Techno as he sat opposite of him. 

The pink haired man crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap, keeping his knife only inches from his fingers. 

“Well?” he asked as the ranger across from him drew a whetstone from his pocket, beginning to sharpen the hatchet blade. 

“Well what?” the masked man tilted his head, had there always been horns on that mask? Or had the hood hidden them? 

“What are you here for?” Techno narrowed his eyes, watching the whetstone slide across the arc of the axe blade. 

“What? I can’t come by to see how my damsel in distress is doing?” Dream chuckled. 

Techno tensed. 

“You just here to call me names?” he flattened his ears. 

“I’m here for numerous reasons, Technoblade.” Dream held up the hatchet, the simple blade gleamed a dark red as it caught the firelight of the hearth. 

“One of which being that I truly am concerned for you.” the mask tilted once more, the hollow features beginning to morph in the firelight. 

Or was he just seeing things? 

_ Mask… _

_ Don’t trust the mask… _

_ Kill him! _

_ Kill Dream! _

_ Kill the bastard! _

_ Make him pay! _

Techno wanted to. Gods did he want to. 

But Dream couldn’t have picked a worse time. 

Sure, he could probably hold him off at least until Tommy had run away. But with his wounds, with his lack of armour and weapons, with Tommy’s mind being as it was… Attacking Dream was not an option. Not at the moment. 

He needed to be careful. 

“I suppose I should say thanks then,” Techno sneered. “For your concern.” 

“But I’m managing.” he shifted a bit, watching as the masked man placed his hatchet to the floor by his boots. 

“Exposure, infection, an anvil to the head,” Dream listed. “I know of most of what you went through.” 

He gestured to the patch of crimson, still slowly blooming across Techno’s chest. 

“That, however,” Dream’s voice grew curious. “That is new.” 

“I don’t recall a chest wound that bad when I left you in the tunnels.” his voice was almost a laugh. 

It happened faster than Techno could blink. Dream had sprung from his chair, his hands had torn open the front of the pink haired man’s shirt, revealing the bandaged wounds beneath. 

How Techno hadn’t screamed, flinched, made any sound, was a miracle. 

How Dream didn’t notice the knife at his ribs was insane. 

The masked man stood over him, his hands almost appeared to shake as he held the bits of cloth away from Techno’s chest, eyeing the bleeding wounds beneath with an emotion Techno couldn’t pinpoint. 

“So close to the heart…” Dream muttered, his hand tracing out the edge of the bloodstain on the bandage.

The voices screeched at the touch. 

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ SLIT HIS THROAT! _

_ STAB HIM! _

_ CUT HIS FINGERS OFF! _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ KILL! _

Techno pressed the knife against the masked man’s ribs in warning. 

“I’ll stick your own heart if you don’t back off, green boy.” he snarled. 

The masked man released him, backing up to his seat once more, hands raised in surrender. 

“So the saying is true then?” Dream chuckled as Techno tucked the torn edges of his shirt back around his chest. “Technoblade never dies?” 

“I do my best to keep it that way.” Techno spat, holding the knife up warningly. The tip of the blade glistening with a drop of red. 

_ Kill him! _

_ Kill him! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Drink his blood! _

_ Lick the blade! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Kill him! _

“Well,” Dream reached up behind his head. “I suppose, it’s only fair, I saw your near death wound, you get to see mine now.” 

Techno’s hackles raised once more as he heard a faint click. His knife remained steadily pointed at the ranger as the man slowly removed his mask. 

“Now we’re equals.” the man grinned. 

Techno had only ever seen Dream’s face once. Many years ago. When he had split his old mask open with his sword, and nearly cleaved the man’s skull in two. 

The pale skin, the freckles, the cat-like green eyes, the sandy, almost chestnut blonde hair was still the same as it had been all those years ago. Albeit, clean of the blood that had stained it that day. 

The two, porcelain white horns, the dark black streaks that seemed to leak from his eyes, and the angry red scar that split like a river down the center of his forehead and across his nose and brow, were new. 

“So that’s what became of that wound.” Techno stated flatly. 

“Perhaps there should be another saying, Dream Never Dies, don’t you think?” Dream smirked, placing the mask onto his lap, tapping his fingers against it with a slight clinking sound. 

“Why are you really here?” Techno leaned forward, giving the blade a slight tilt in warning. 

“Oh come now, threats?” Dream laughed. “You really think you can still kill me? After all you’ve been through?” 

“I could ask the same of you.” Techno replied flatly. 

The ranger seemed to stiffen, then waved a hand. 

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing.” he crossed his legs casually, placing the mask on one knee. “Tommy’s missing.” 

For the second time that day, Techno’s blood froze. 

_ Tommy! _

_ Tommy! _

_ Protect the baby! _

_ Play dumb! _

_ Protect Tommy! _

_ Play dumb! _

“Who?” Techno could have smacked himself at the stupid comment. 

Why the hell was  _ that _ the first word to come to mind?! 

_ Stupid! _

_ Not that dumb! _

_ Idiot! _

_ Bitch boy! _

_ Stupid! _

_ Stupid boy! _

_ Stupid! _

“Right right!” Techno chuckled. “Tommy!” 

Dream tilted his head, confused. 

“That idiot, didn’t he get exiled?” Techno continued. “Last I heard he was on some island in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Yeah....” Dream raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t happened to have seen him recently? Have you?” 

Techno prayed his expressions would remain neutral. 

He prayed his little brother would stay quiet upstairs. 

He could swear he heard a faint gasp from somewhere, but seeing as Dream wasn’t reacting, he could only assume it was his own mind. Being cruel once more. 

“Nope.” He lowered the blade slightly, giving it a quick clean on his pant leg before holding it up once more. 

“Are you sure?” Dream seemed...genuinely surprised. 

“Last I heard, he was on that island.” Techno gave the blade a light twirl within his hand, letting the golden light of the hearth flash across it. “Haven’t seen him since the fall of L’Manberg.” 

“Certainly haven’t seen him recently.” he gestured to his wounds. 

“But I’m sure you would have guessed that.” 

“Hmm.” Dream held up his mask, inspecting it, his eyes flashing between its blank face and Techno. 

“Well,” the ranger sighed. “That’s a shame. Poor Tubbo, when I finally let him visit, is going to be in for quite a shock. Seeing the place in ruins you know.” 

“I’d bet my life, within a few days, L’Manberg is going to think that Tommy is dead.” the man grinned. 

“And I should care, why?” Techno raised an eyebrow. 

“Surely you wouldn’t want your younger brother, let alone your poor father, to think another family member has died?” Dream laughed. 

“If that’s what it takes to keep them from being idiots,” Techno shrugged. “I’d say let them.”

Techno could swear he heard Tommy screaming. 

It took all of his willpower to stay calm, remain where he sat within the chair, emotionless. 

Dream’s eyes narrowed. 

A log fell within the hearth, popping loudly.

“You don’t trust me.” Techno stated. 

“Not really, no.” Dream flicked a bit of dust from the mask. 

“You think I’d harbour someone who betrayed me?” the pink haired man fiddled the knife within his hand. 

“I think you’d harbour someone who  _ betrayed _ L’Manberg.” Dream glanced back at him. “You hate that place, do you not? Especially after all they’ve done to you.” 

“How do I know you’re not siding with their newest traitor?” the man’s green eyes were laced with malice. Their narrow, black slitted pupils flashing wickedly. 

“Truth of the matter is,” Techno picked under his claws with the tip of the blade. “You don’t.” 

“Isn’t Tommy your family though?” Dream countered. “Wouldn’t you feel guilty turning him away if he asked for help?” 

“The brat’s too stubborn to want my help.” Techno scoffed. “Even if he had come this way, I’d have still turned him down.” 

He hissed, hoping it sounded convincing. “I want nothing more to do with people who lie behind the facade of ‘friendship’ and ‘family’.” 

“I just want to be left alone, in peace.” he flicked a bit of dirt from under his claw. “Which seems to be increasingly more difficult with how many folks keep showing up asking things from me.” 

“First the Butcher Party wanting my life, and now you.” He glared at Dream. “Wanting something as well, clearly.” 

He raised an eyebrow at the horned man. “I doubt you’d have come here otherwise?”

“I want to ask a favour.” Dream sat up straight, a smile crossing a face. 

The hearth snapped as a log fell.

“So that’s what you’re really here for then?” Techno held the blade up once more. 

The ranger placed an elbow on his knee, resting his head in his hand. 

“You always say ‘an eye for an eye’,” he grinned. “You pay cruelty in cruelty, kindness in kindness.” 

“Don’t you think I’m owed a little something?” his horns seemed to glow a faint red from the firelight. “For saving your life?” 

_ Eye for an eye… _

_ He’s right… _

_ Debts… _

_ Pay the debts… _

_ Make him pay…. _

_ Hurt Tommy! _

_ He hurt Tommy! _

_ Make him pay! _

_ Eye for an eye… _

“I think me not killing you for that little stunt you pulled earlier,” Techno gripped the edge of his torn shirt. “Should be payment enough for that.” 

Dream chuckled. “It was a curiosity!” 

“You and I seem to have very different views on curiosity.” Techno spat. 

“Alright, I’ll lay my offer to you, for real now.” Dream leaned forward. “I want to make an alliance.” 

“The hell makes you think I’d join you?” Techno was almost insulted. 

An alliance? With the very man who had caused his family so much pain? 

“Because,” Dream grinned. “You and I really aren’t that different.” 

Techno was taken aback. What exactly was this ranger trying to pull? 

“How so?” he raised the blade once more, eyeing the man before him.

“We both don't fit within this world.” Dream stood, walking around his chair before leaning against the back of it, watching Techno as though perched. “People fear us, I mean why shouldn't they? We're the ones with the power, the ones they can't control.”

Techno blinked. “...And?” 

Sure he had power, Dream had power, but anyone could achieve power with the right blade and enough blood on their hands. Power only meant one wasn’t to be bothered. Nothing more. 

“Haven’t you always wondered where you fit within this little world?” Dream seemed to be switching tactics, Techno noted. If power didn’t entice him, perhaps belonging would? 

“I know someone like you must be wondering that. I get it.” Dream tilted his head, smiling softly. “I've been wondering about myself too. Where do I belong? What's the point of my existence? What's my destiny? To farm potatoes for eternity? Or is it something greater?”

Techno scoffed. “I don’t believe in destiny.”

Dream frowned. “But you do want a place to belong, do you not?”

He had a point. 

Techno hated to admit it. 

He did want to belong somewhere, find someplace he could live in peace, a place no one would hurt him ever again. 

Dream seemed to take notice of his hesitation. 

“We can make that, Techno.” his smile widened. “We can reshape this world! We can tailor it to fit us! No more hiding, no more conflict, no more wars, just unity. Unity and belonging.” 

_ Belonging… _

_ Family… _

_ Family… _

_ Conflict… _

_ Wars… _

_ No wars… _

_ Belonging… _

_ Impossible... _

That was just the problem though. 

People don’t change. Techno knew that all too well. And forcing change only made them retaliate stronger. It was how this dying, empty world had come to be, and it was how this world would end. There was nothing two men, or one for that matter, could do to change it. 

For as much as he hated the lot he had been given in life, what Dream seemed to fail at understanding about him, was that he was free. Just like everyone else in this stupid world, free to make their own stupid decisions. Free to be themselves. 

Even if he could change it, why would he bother to try?

He preferred his freedom over anything Dream could have to offer.

Techno laughed. 

“I fail to see what’s so funny.” The ranger narrowed his eyes. 

“You see, Dream, that's just the problem.” Techno steadied himself. “You and I are nothing alike, it would never work.”

Dream frowned. “Oh really? And why is that, you suppose?”

“Cause unlike you,” Techno grinned. “I don’t care what everyone thinks of me.”

He noticed the ranger stiffen, he’d touched a nerve. 

“You think I care enough to bother reshaping this world?” Techno stood. “No! They don't care about me, I don't care about them. They leave me alone, I leave them alone. That’s the unspoken deal I’ve made with life.”

“Bullshit!” Dream gripped the back of the chair. “You thrive on chaos!” 

“I promote anarchy,” Techno took a step forward. “I can’t stand chaos.”

“I make my intentions clear with everyone I ally with, if they break their promises I retaliate. Eye for an eye.” He continued. “But if they keep to their end of the bargain, I keep to mine.”

“Anarchy is far, far different from Chaos, Dream.” He held the knife eye level with the ranger before him. “I just protect my freedom and let others do with theirs as they wish. Sure, I don't agree with the way people chose to live, I'll give them advice, I'll preach against their restrictive institutions, but in the end, if they don't choose to listen and they leave me out of it, that's fine. I couldn't care less.”

“They'll fall anyway, all things eventually do.” He lowered his voice as the fire behind him crackled. 

“Chaos though, chaos is what you're suggesting.” he was now arms length away from Dream’s face, the tip of his blade scratching the man’s forehead. 

“Chaos to control, and gain, and maintain power.” He continued to tear at Dream’s logic. “You don't want a government because you're scared of people taking power away from you.” 

He saw the man’s face morph into a sneer.

“You don't want organisation because you're scared of people retaliating against you.” Techno grinned, relishing the sight of the ranger’s argument crumbling before him. “You want chaos because you're a tyrant, Dream, a tyrant who is desperate to stay in control.”

He leaned in close to the man’s face, whispering. “But let me tell you, the tighter you pull the restraints around those who defy you, the more they’ll begin to pull back.”

Dream’s eyes were hardly more than tiny, black slits amidst swirling, angry green. He looked as if he would snap at any second, flinging his hands around Techno’s throat. 

He wouldn’t though, Techno knew he wouldn’t. His bluff was working. 

“I see.” The man slowly held a hand up, lightly pushing the blade away from his face. 

“You and I are far too different to ever be a team, Dream.” Techno lowered the blade, he knew the man wouldn’t dare attack him now. 

“Because unlike you, I'm not scared of what people think of me.” he grinned. “And I'm certainly not going to give up my freedom to help from a tyrant like you.”

Dream stiffened, then sighed, retrieving his hatchet from where it lay on the floor, placing it back into its holster before turning towards the door.

“So that's it then?” He fitted his mask back to his face. “You'll just be satisfied with your lot in life?”

“I think so, yeah.” Techno shrugged. “I’ll be more satisfied once you’ve walked out that door though, green boy.” 

Dream said nothing, flinging his cloak back over his shoulders before silently heading out the door, opening and closing it without so much as a squeak of the hinge. 

Techno watched at the window for what seemed to be an hour, long after the ranger had left the horizon, only leaving the window once he knew Carl had settled. 

Finally, he let out a long held breath, and staggered towards the stairs, sheathing the knife against his thigh for the last time. 

_ Kill him… _

_ Could have killed him… _

_ Too hurt… _

_ Couldn’t fight… _

_ Close one… _

_ Too close… _

_ Coward… _

_ Dream’s a coward… _

_ Stupid boy… _

_ You’re stupid… _

_ Tommy is hurt… _

_ Dream hurt Tommy… _

_ Tommy scared… _

Techno’s heart plummeted as he neared the top of the stairs. Tommy was curled on the ground, wide eyed, his ear pressed to the floor. 

“He...He was…” his brother stammered. 

“He’s gone.” Techno knelt beside him. “He’s gone now.” 

He yelped as Tommy flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Fuck!” he pried the boy’s arms off of him, wincing in pain. “Gods you’re like a vice! Warn me next time!” 

“I thought he killed you!” Tommy sobbed. “You were quiet for so long I thought-” 

“Come on,” Techno gave his little brother a light punch to the arm. “Dream? Kill me? Technoblade never dies.” 

The boy continued to shake, sobbing uncontrollably as Techno helped him to stand. 

The poor kid. He’d gone through far too much today. How long had he been listening to that conversation? How much did he know? 

What exactly had he thought was happening? 

Did he think he was betraying him to Dream? 

Gods he hoped he hadn’t thought that!

“Hey,” Techno patted his shoulder, the kid needed something to take his mind off of things. “You handled that pretty well.” 

“I just…” Tommy sniffled. “I just stayed quiet though. I didn’t- I didn’t…” 

“Tommy.” Techno placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. “Tell me, how much did you hear?” 

The boy hugged his arms around himself. 

“All of it.” he shook. “I woke up when I heard the door knock.”

“I thought- I...I thought you-that Dream-” Tommy stammered. “I listened in- oh fuck Tubbo’s gonna think I’m dead!- fuck I-I-I shouldn’t have left!” 

“Dream’s my friend, right?” he wiped a tear from his eye. “Right? Why would- why would he suggest any of that?” 

Techno gripped his little brother’s shoulders. “Tommy, we’ve been over this. What about any of that conversation makes you think Dream is your friend?” 

Tommy shook his head. “I-I know. I know.” 

“I know he’s not my friend I just-” he was trembling, staring at the floor. “I shouldn’t have left. L’Manberg’s gonna think I’m dead, Tubbo’s gonna think I’m dead….Tubbo never visited- Dream could be threatening him! But, they’re all gonna think I’m dead….fuck…” 

“Hey.” Techno loosened his grip on the boy’s shoulders. “Hey none of that!” 

“Look at me kid.” He took Tommy’s hand. “You did the right thing.” 

“You claimed your freedom and escaped him” he smiled. “and then when he followed you, you managed to fight him, even if indirectly.” 

“You could have returned with him at any moment,” he explained. “You could have given up your freedom and gone back into exile with that bastard, but you didn’t” 

He sat the boy down on the chair within the room, before turning to a chest, rummaging through it until he found a small box. He removed one of the metallic contents before turning back to his younger brother. 

_ Proud of you… _

_ Tommy! _

_ Proud… _

_ Proud man… _

_ Proud of the boy… _

_ Tommy is a man… _

_ Give the earring!  _

_ Shiny… _

_ Momma’s… _

_ He’s a man now... _

“I’d say you’re a man now, Tommy.” he placed a small, emerald earring into the boy’s palm. “And a free man at that.” 

“And I couldn’t be more proud of you.” he smiled. 

Tommy’s eyes were still watering, he still sniffled, wiping his tears with his free hand as he stared at the emerald within the other. 

He chuckled, brokenly. 

“The-the hell am I supposed to- supposed to do with this?” he questioned. 

“Well you could punch it through your ear yourself,” Techno held up a needle. “Or I could do it for you.” 

Tommy’s eyes drifted to the multitude of jewels and gold dangling from Techno’s ears, stopping once they reached the simple, emerald earring that hung at the very tip of one. He set his jaw and tilted his head to the side. 

“Do it bitch boy.” 

The procedure was over and done within less than a minute, with hardly a swear from his little brother, much to Techno’s surprise, as he pierced a hole into the top of the boy’s ear, setting the earring into its new fitting. 

“How’s it feel to be a man, kid?” Techno grinned. 

“Pretty damn good.” Tommy returned the grin. “Cause now I get to tell you to stop fucking calling me kid!” 

Techno dodged as the boy swung a punch at him. 

“I’m still older than you, I can call you kid, man or no!” He laughed. 

“Fuck off!” 


	8. “You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Techno begins his training to become a warrior. Or farmer?   
> An older Techno neglects his training and suffers the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: PTSD flashback in the second half with heavy implications of child abuse. There's also mention of hunting with a snare, no detail given about anything that's caught but snares are nasty so just a warning for anyone who does know and doesn't like. 
> 
> (I posted a little short horror story yesterday, it was NOT the side arc I promised, do not read it as if it were the side arc. The side arc is coming, not to worry. I'm just about done writing this instalment, just editing now, but I might add more chapters? Not sure yet. In any case, I do think I will be continuing this series for some time as I have plenty more ideas in the works. Thanks again for reading today ! :)

Many Years Ago

“How the hell is this supposed to help me fight?” 

Philza sighed at the sight before him. 

Techno held a garden pick, his hair tied back, his sleeves rolled up, a grumpy look plastered over his face. 

It had been three weeks since the boy had asked Phil to train him, three weeks since he had very nearly lost his boy in that fight that had started this new obsession of his. Three weeks of healing, three weeks of constant begging to be given a sword, a weapon, to just throw a punch. 

Phil had done his best to stall, Techno was in no shape to be training just yet. Even now, after having healed up most of the way, though his shoulder was still tightly bound in place, he was in no way ready to train. 

Sure he had built up decent stamina, with the amount of walking the three had done throughout their lives. But he had never lifted a weapon heavier than a knife in his life. His upper body strength was...poor at best. Built for long walks and used to sleeping outside, but not for fighting. 

Philza still wasn’t sure whether this tactic he was using now was another form of stalling, to keep Techno from fighting just yet, or a proper way to build up his core. 

Either way, Techno seemed very disappointed. 

“I ask you to train me and I get put on farming duty?” the boy glared up at him, his ears flattening in frustration. 

“Well,” Phil tied back his own hair before rolling up his sleeves, holding his hands wide. “You could always take a swing at me if you wanted.” 

In a flash, the pink haired teen had flung himself at Phil, swinging wildly with the pick. Phil stepped aside, giving Techno a light push against his back, knocking him face first to the ground. 

The teen was instantly back on his feet, swinging at Phil once more. The man merely knocked the boy’s knuckles, forcing the tool from his hands, before giving him a light shove backwards. 

Techno landed hard on his backside, glaring at Phil. 

Philza grinned wickedly, before picking up his own pick and helping his son to his feet. 

“I know you don’t want to admit it-” 

“I know! I know!” the boy snapped, picking up the garden tool. “My balance is shit and my arms are weak.” 

The teen took a breath, wringing his hands around the handle of the tool, before letting out a slow sigh. 

His red eyes flashed back at Phil. “Alright, what’s the plan then?” 

Phil smiled in relief. At least he learned quickly. 

“The plan,” he guided the boy further out into the field. “Is to do as we agreed on with the villagers.” 

He struck the pick down into the soil. 

“We loosen up the dirt and remove any rocks we find.” he gave his hat a tilt against the sunlight of the morning. “And then we get paid. Simple as that.” 

“What’s the catch?” he saw Techno pull slightly against a loose hair in his bun. 

“You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow morning.” Phil explained. “And then we’re gonna come back and do the field next door.” 

“I’m gonna get callouses.” Techno stated. 

“Yup.” Phil nodded. “And your arms and back and stomach and legs are probably all gonna hate you too.” 

“So I want you to listen to your body,” he continued. “And if you feel like there’s anything you can’t do, or you’re pushing yourself too far, I want you to stop. Okay?” 

“But-” 

“Your body is like your mind, Techno.” Phil fluffed up his wings. “If you have an episode, what do you do? Do you push through it? Do you force yourself to relive it after it’s passed?” 

“No.” Techno looked down at his feet. 

“And when you’ve had a rough few days, do you force yourself to continue?” Phil asked. “Or do you take some time to rest?” 

Techno lolled his head back and stared up at the sky, sighing in defeat. 

“Okay,” he huffed. “I won’t overwork myself.” 

“You better not.” Phil winked. “Or I won’t split the pay with you.” 

That morning and up until the afternoon, the two worked in the field. Phil occasionally stopping to adjust Techno’s stance or to tell him to switch hands. Now and then telling him to take a break as the boy began to slow, rubbing at his sore hands. By the time the sun was well into the sky, the two had finished tilling the soil of half of the field. 

Phil had removed his coat by then, his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, though even he was starting to feel the effect of the sun on his back. 

He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow as he gave Techno a wave to stop. 

The boy groaned, his back was already sunburnt. 

“Ooh you’re gonna regret that.” Phil tsked. 

“Shut up.” Techno groaned. “How much longer?” 

“Well for now,” Phil motioned the boy to follow him to the shade of some nearby trees. “I think we should just take a break.” 

He almost laughed as the pink haired teen planted face first into the shade of the trees, groaning. 

“Ow…” Techno mumbled. 

“You did say you wanted to train,” Phil sat down beside him, handing him a water canteen. “Training is full of ‘ow’. Just saying.” 

“You sure you want to keep this up?” he asked as the boy chugged down the water. 

He was met with blazing red eyes. 

“The hell would I stop?!” Techno grinned. 

Philza wasn’t sure if he should feel worried, or proud, at that response. 

The next few days were much of the same. 

The two would arrive at the fields at the crack of dawn, work until noon, break, and continue working until sundown. Occasionally joined by Wilbur during the breaks as the boy played a tune on his guitar and told them about his exploits busking for the townsfolk. 

When they eventually ran out of work in one village, they moved onto the next. And the next. Days passed. 

Then weeks. 

Months. 

Techno continued to work alongside Phil, occasionally accompanied by Wilbur, mostly working by themselves as the other twin went off to gather coin with his songs. 

Phil noticed, the more they worked, the more Techno’s breaks became shorter. When he slept, he stayed asleep for longer. The occasional episode, brought on by a sudden noise or a rude remark from locals, became less frequent. It wasn’t a cure, Philza knew that; nothing would stop the voices or the episodes from occurring permanently, but it was healing of a sort. 

He ensured he stayed by his son’s side through each episode, working with him on different techniques to bring him back from wherever his mind had gone. Rhyming, tapping, creating rhythms and patterns easily repeated as a way to bring the voices to calm and the fear and anger to subside. 

He felt a surge of relief whenever he noticed the boy pause in his work, closing his eyes as he tapped his clawed fingers against the handle of the pick, rhyming words together into a simple pattern, before returning to his work. Sometimes, Phil even noticed the pink haired teen rhyming without pause, quietly to himself as he tilled the soil. 

Now and then, he would stop the boy, point out a new stance to practice as he worked, a new swing with the pick, a new technique to breath. While Techno fought the odd methods initially, he did begrudgingly as Phil had instructed. He wasn’t sure if the boy knew that what he was teaching wasn’t just for farmwork, or if that was the reason he had continued to agree to till the fields with him for so long. 

Either way, he knew the boy was learning, one way or another. Without having to touch a blade. 

Philza wasn’t sure when exactly he realised his boy had grown. When he did, the shock nearly made him cry. 

He was returning to the fields of a new settlement; having been there for only a day and already receiving angry looks from some of the villagers, he decided it would be best to pack up soon at some point. 

It was as he had entered the fields that he noticed the pack of teens surrounding Techno, and felt a surge of panic rush through him. He dropped his satchel and bolted for the boy, hoping he wasn’t too late. 

He skid to a halt in surprise, however, when he saw the pink haired teen suddenly lift up one of the others, giving them a light toss aside before turning back to his work. The group scattered within seconds. 

Phil rushed to the boy’s side. 

“Tech!” he flung his arms around him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you? What happened?” 

The boy blinked at him, confused. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he shrugged. “They were bugging me, I told them to move and let me work, and they didn’t.” 

“So I gave em a little motivation to fuck off.” he raised his pick, returning to his work. 

Phil was dumbfounded. 

“Are you...how are the voices?” he asked. 

The pink haired teen paused, then shrugged. 

“Angry,” he stated, slamming the garden pick into the ground. “But they’re satisfied with beating the shit out of the ground for now.” 

Phil studied his son before him. 

He looked...different? Was that the right word? 

He was still Techno. Long hair still tied back in a bun as he worked, scars still crossing his back and chest from when he was thirteen, a new scar fading on his shoulder from his fight with the bear hybrid. His eyes were still downcast, his face still neutral, his voice still monotone. 

Sure he was stronger now, he had just lifted a kid through the air with ease, his months of muscle buildup wasn’t massively evident but still noticeable. 

But there was something else to him, Philza noted, as the boy continued his work in the field. 

He was calm. 

He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t upset, he wasn’t flinching at the sound of the hoe hitting the dirt. He was calm, content. 

Phil saw him pause, staring back at him. 

“You’re staring.” the boy narrowed his eyes. “You planning on surprise attacking me or something?” 

Phil blinked. 

“You still haven’t taught me anything about fighting yet.” the teen glared at him. “Just farming.” 

“You’re right.” Phil smiled, shaking his head. He still couldn’t believe it, he’d never seen Techno so calm before, he was so proud-

Philza ducked as the teen swung the end of the pick at him, laughing.   
“You gonna teach me or what?” Techno grinned, holding the tool like a bo-staff before him. “I’m getting a bit impatient here.” 

Phil could only laugh. Techno was indeed ready to learn, he thought. His main concern about the boy wasn’t so much the lack of strength, though that was a non issue now, it was his mind. He’d worried about the teen losing himself in just a sparring match, the way he had in his fight with the bear hybrid, the way he had while defending Phil two years ago. Falling into an episode and hurting himself. 

With how he was now though, having found a repetitive practice to calm his mind as well as allow him to get into shape, Phil was more than happy to fulfill the boy’s wishes. 

He picked up his own pick, rolling his sleeves up, before giving the tool a slight twirl. 

“Just one round.” he grinned at the boy. “You still got a field to till.” 

He took a swing at the boy. 

Techno dropped into one of the stances Phil had taught him, blocking with ease. 

“See?” Philza pointed out. “I  _ have _ been teaching you.” 

Techno grinned, shoving him back.   
“You sneaky old man!”

  
  


_________________

Techno shivered. 

The chill wind of the tundra had drifted into the forest, somehow seeping through even his cloak. He pulled it tighter against him, tapping his heels to Carl’s sides as he urged the charger through the faint, snowy trail between the pines. 

He had only left the house about an hour ago. Tommy had been complaining about something, mainly about the lack of meat within their stores. Finally having enough of the boy’s ragging, as well as his own growing hunger for some fresh kill, Techno had left with Carl to hunt. 

Nothing too big, he knew he wasn’t strong enough yet to catch any game larger than a hare. But a hare did sound wonderful. 

Hare and potato stew, and some of that fresh bread he had taught Tommy to make. Well, his brother more or less had just watched in utter confusion the whole time  _ he _ had made it. But at least he had watched the oven for him, there was that. 

He smirked. It was a start. And, it did keep the boy’s mind at ease. 

_ Repetition… _

_ Tasks… _

_ Simple tasks… _

_ Like to repeat… _

_ Nice… _

_ Mix the dough… _

_ Hit the dirt… _

_ Smack the dirt… _

_ Dirt pile… _

_ Pile of dirt… _

_ Fields… _

_ HIT _

_ Hit the dirt… _

_ Stupid tasks… _

_ Simple… _

_ FUN _

_ Stupid… _

_ Hit the dirt… _

He had found for himself, years ago, the calming effects of simple work. Baking, house work, sewing, mending, tilling the fields. Hell, it was one of the main reasons he enjoyed his beekeeping so much. 

_ Bees… _

_ Bees are good… _

_ Friend… _

_ Bees… _

It was good to keep the mind away from darker thoughts. 

Techno’s ears twitched as he heard a snap within the underbrush and quickly halted Carl. 

Larger animals tended to spook at the sight of a horse within the woods, smaller animals not so much. Deer weren’t exactly something a rabbit or squirrel were easily startled by, they all lived in the same environment and weren’t predacious. A horse, while different, was similar enough to a deer that a hare certainly wouldn’t bother to run from them. 

And with the addition of Carl masking his scent, Techno was practically invisible. 

He shivered once more- what the hell was with him today?- and carefully drew out his bow. Knocking an arrow into place, he aligned his sights, steadying his breath as he watched his surroundings. 

His ears twitched as another snap sounded to his right. He drew back on the bow, spotting a large grey hare, and-

His hands slipped as a sharp pain shot through his damaged shoulder. He cried out as the arrow was flung wide, missing the hare entirely as the bow fell to the ground. 

_ Stupid!  _

_ Stupid boy! _

_ Stupid!  _

_ How could you forget? _

_ They hurt you… _

_ Damaged your shoulder… _

_ Hurts so much… _

_ Useless! _

_ Can’t shoot a bow… _

_ Never again… _

_ Weak!  _

The voices laughed as he clawed at his shoulder, still throbbing from the strain he had put on it from drawing the bow. 

He clenched his eyes shut, snarling as the pain continued to gnaw at his shoulder, each heartbeat sending a sharp throb through the broken bone and torn muscle. 

Why did he try to use the damn bow?! He chided himself. 

He couldn’t draw it, not now. Probably not ever. Not with the way the bones had shattered. Even with the healing potions, of which he still needed to brew more, they still needed time to allow the bones and ligaments to mend back together. 

Maybe...maybe he shouldn’t have done this. 

The voices cackled. 

_ Stupid boy! _

_ Stupid!  _

_ Weak!  _

_ Stupid! _

Techno felt Carl’s whiskered muzzle nudge his knee. He slowly uncurled, giving the horse a gentle pat on the head. 

“I’m okay.” he reassured the charger, as well as himself. “I’m okay.” 

He still had a crossbow. He could at least hunt with that. Not to mention, he had plenty of snares he could set up that wouldn’t require too much effort on his part to set. 

He never liked the idea of using snares, it wasn’t a quick way to go. And there was no telling what else could get trapped in it. But, at least he and Tommy wouldn’t starve.

He nudged Carl towards a cluster of young saplings before dismounting, reaching with his good arm to set up the snare before returning to the horse to continue through the woods. Crossbow held at the ready for any small prey he might come across. 

At about the third snare he set, however, he felt something was wrong. 

The shivering that had been plaguing him off and on throughout the day suddenly, and without warning, reached his chest, sending a deep ache through his wounds as he dropped to his knees, coughing. 

He bent double on the snowy forest floor, his eyes clenched shut against the pain surging through him at each shattered breath, his hands clawing at the wound in his chest. How long the fit lasted, he wasn’t certain. When his eyes finally opened, the once white snow beneath him was now a deep crimson. 

He tasted blood. 

He wiped his good hand across his mouth and felt the hot, iron scent of the reddish ichor burn his nose, the sticky fluid continuing to roll across his tongue and seep from the corners of his mouth. 

His hand came away as red as the snow below him. 

_ Blood!  _

_ Blood!  _

_ Stupid boy! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Hurts so much… _

_ Blood… _

_ Chest hurts… _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Blood for us!  _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! _

“...shit…” he coughed, shakily trying to stand. 

His vision began to blur as he reached for Carl’s saddle, leaning heavily against the horse as another bout of coughing sent a new wave of pain through his chest. 

He felt the sutures across his wounds tear at the skin at each movement, the scabs coming undone along the seams of the gashes and punctures as more hot blood began to seep across his tunic. 

His skin began to crawl, his vision flashed between where he was now and some other place locked away, deep within his memories. The red and white snow beneath his feet became a series of black and white checkered tiles. The dark pines surrounding him became gilded walls. His coughs and Carl’s concerned snorts became a woman screaming. 

The pain in his chest spread to his throat. 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed into the snow, spasming as he felt whispered pleas of mercy escape his lips. 

It had been months! It had been months since he had an episode this badly! 

Why now?! 

Why?!

_ Why?!  _

_ Please no!  _

_ PLEASE! _

_ Stop!  _

_ BLOOD! _

_ Please stop!  _

_ BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!  _

_ No!  _

_ BLOOD! _

_ No!  _

_ Please no!  _

_ GIVE USE BLOOD! _

He was no longer in the forest. 

Carl was gone. 

He lay sprawled on the floor of the checkered tiled marble of a palace, watching the blood pool from his mouth and nose, staining the ivory and ebony beneath his cheek. 

A woman screamed as he felt something hard slam into his chest before a pair of hands wrapped around his throat. 

He began to cry. 

… 


	9. "Realize your youth while you have it." ― Oscar Wilde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and Schlatt meet up a year after the near death of Techno, they catch up and have a chill afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: underage drinking. They're about 16 ish at this time so technically, yeah, it's underage drinking. But that's it, fairly mild chapter. 
> 
> (So anyone know about The Last of Us 2? The big city environment for most of the game was what I was thinking of when I wrote this chapter. All run down with tons of overgrowth but a lot of medieval-ish additions made by inhabitants to make things liveable. This is a chill chapter, before the drama that's gonna come later down the line. Thanks again for reading! :)

Many Years Ago __

“Hey! Wilby!” 

Wilbur’s hand slipped across the guitar at the familiar voice, creating a discordant twang as his head shot up in surprise. 

A scruffy, horned boy with golden goat eyes was waving at him from across the road. 

“Schlatt?!” he scrambled to his feet. 

He had been busking all morning on the street corner of the settlement the group had stopped in, and had made quite a bit of coin doing so from the locals and passers-by. The small crowds that came and went all morning he had expected. The sight of Schlatt, his friend he had made a year ago, he did not. 

He poured the coins from their can into his satchel, he’d count them later he told himself, before bolting across the road, dodging the carriages and myriad of people, and flung his arms around his old friend. 

“Schlatt you dumb goat!” he laughed, pulling away from the embrace. “Where the fuck have you been?  _ How _ the fuck have you been? What are you doing here?” 

“Figured I’d take a cue from you guys and skip town for a while!” Schlatt grinned, gesturing to the satchel strung across his shoulders. “Got fed up back there, decided to go see about the rest of the world.” 

He chuckled darkly, his ears flattening. “Kinda....kinda a shit place the more I travel though.” 

“Yeah…” Wilbur rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “People are pretty dickish. Especially towards your folk.” 

“Pff! No kidding!” Schlatt rolled his eyes. “You know how many times I wasn’t allowed in a settlement?! For a pair of horns and goofy looking ears? Gods the people out there are fucking jerks!” 

“At least the Villagers don’t seem to care.” he shrugged. “Not great conversationalists though.” 

“You don’t happen to know sign language, do you?” Wilbur asked. 

“Nah.” Schlatt shrugged, then asked, “Wait should I?” 

“I mean, if you ever wanted to get more than a head nod from the Village folk, yeah.” Wilbur patted the boy’s back. 

“But this place isn’t too bad.” he gestured to the various buildings, repurposed from old world structures, surrounding them. “There’s not a lot of hybrids around but the people here don’t seem to care too much. Philza and Tech haven’t had any trouble at least, so there’s that.” 

“How is the old man?” Schlatt followed him as Wilbur led the boy down the road. “And your bro for that matter? He doing okay?” 

“They’re…” Wilbur shrugged. “Yeah I think-I think they’re doing okay.” 

“To be honest,” he sighed, his eyes gazing upwards at the crumbling buildings of the old world cityscape, draped with rope bridges and ramshackle houses. “I haven’t really been with them all that much.” 

“Phil is almost always with Techno,” he turned his eyes back to the street before them as they weaved through a small crowd of people. “They’re usually out doing work and such. Techno’s been doing a lot of spadework, tilling fields, planting, harvesting. All that.” 

“And when Philza’s not with him,” he motioned for Schlatt to follow him down a side street. “He’s out in the ruins looking for books and old technology and shit.” 

“He still flying?” Schlatt elbowed him. “Or he too old for that?” 

“God’s you dumb goat!” Wilbur elbowed him back. “He’s only twenty eight!” 

“That’s still pretty fucking old though.” the horned boy pointed out. “I mean, have you ever seen anyone older than, I dunno, mid twenties? What with that fucking fever?” 

He did have a point, Wilbur noted as they reached the end of the side street. The crumbling pathway opened out onto what must have been a drainage ditch some hundred odd years ago, that had now become a river. Splitting through the ruins and dotted with trees and marshy patches along its banks, it was a stark contrast to the otherwise grey of the surrounding structures. 

“I think,” he took a seat beneath one of the trees. “Not counting the Village folk, I think I have seen maybe one or two people in their thirties? Maybe?” 

“Not in any of the cities,” he explained. “They were out in little settlements or just on their own I think.” 

“Not surprised,” Schlatt took a seat beside him. “Considering how fast disease likes to spread in cities.” 

“There’s probably a lot of people over the age of thirty just living out in the middle of nowhere,” Wilbur drew his guitar off his back and began to tune it absentmindedly. “Hell, maybe there’s places the Blood Fever hasn’t touched yet.”

“Who knows?” Schlatt rummaged through his satchel before drawing out a dust covered wine bottle, grinning wickedly. “But this baby sure as hell survived past its thirties!” 

“Holy fuck!” Wilbur nearly dropped the guitar. “Where-how the hell did you get that?!” 

“Found it back in my old settlement!” Schlatt laughed. “The old gang thought it was an old world relic or some shit, thought we could pawn it for a good deal, but turns out nope, just a leftover from a thieve’s stash.” 

“Was pretty disappointed when I found out, but,” He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it some distance away before holding the wine bottle to Wilbur. “Hooch is hooch ey?” 

“Pfft!” Wilbur laughed. “I guess? Wouldn’t know.” 

Schlatt blinked. “You’ve never had alcohol before?!” 

“No?” Wilbur shrugged. “I mean, aside from this one time I had a really bad cough and Phil made me drink this tea that had a bit of rum in it to numb my throat, it was fucking gross as shit though.” 

Schlatt shoved the bottle into his hands. 

“Doesn’t count.” the horned boy insisted. “Take a sip, small one, and just let it sit on your tongue for a bit and see how you like it.” 

Wilbur eyed the bottle cautiously, it smelled terrible. Like the tea he had described, but cold and worse somehow. He took a tiny sip, immediately choking on the bitter taste. 

He handed the bottle back to Schlatt. “The fuck is in that?! Vinegar?!” 

“Red wine baby!” Schlatt grinned, chugging at the open bottle. 

“Tastes like shit.” Wilbur wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Can’t imagine why nobles bother with that.” 

“Aw come on!” Schlatt handed the bottle back to Wilbur. “It’s an acquired taste, you gotta just take little sips you know? Pair it with something nice? Like some fancy cheese or dried fruit or some shit.” 

Wilbur pushed the bottle aside. 

“As if we’d ever have any of that stuff.” he chuckled. 

“Maybe  _ you _ won’t.” Schlatt grinned. 

“What? You plan on becoming a noble?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Who you marrying to get that position?” 

Schlatt stood. “I ain’t marrying shit! I’m gonna do that all on my own.” 

He opened his arms out in mock grandeur. “I’ll be the emperor of a new nation! And then we’ll unite the world together! What do ya say Wilby?” 

“Wanna join me?” he grinned. 

Wilbur laughed. 

“You and what army?” he gave his friend a light kick to his shins, the horned boy dodged. “What few nobles are left aren’t gonna take kindly to some guy waltzing in proclaiming himself king over them.” 

“Emperor!” Schlatt corrected, taking a seat back beside Wilbur. “And nah, haven’t thought that far ahead.” 

“It’s just a bottle dream, not like it would ever happen.” He took another sip of the wine. “Not like we’d live that long anyhow.” 

Wilbur shrugged. “You never know, I mean, Philza survived the Blood Fever, so it is possible.” 

“It’s not the Blood Fever that worries me.” he saw Schlatt’s ears droop. “You’ve seen this world, more than I ever have, I’m sure you know what I mean.” 

Wilbur nodded. 

He knew. 

The violence between what nobles were left, the violence between various humans towards hybrids or even each other, the violence of the mob creatures that hunted anything that moved… And if one survived the violence, the fever, the harshness of wandering from place to place well…

Loneliness would always catch up. 

He’d seen too many individual wanderers with a broken glaze across their eyes. Too many people who’d seen the world and all its emptiness and had given up. 

It was such a bizarre yet inescapable fate, either one lived with the comforting company of others in the cities and risked the violence and the fever, or one wandered and gradually broke down from the loneliness of it all. 

Wilbur had begun to taste the cold loneliness himself lately. When Philza and Techno weren’t picking up work from local villages, they were either training or Phil was out scouring ruins while Techno…

Techno didn’t talk much anymore, Wilbur noted. 

_ He’s just tired. _ He told himself.  _ Tired from working and training and shit. _

He’d be fine. 

He missed him though. 

He missed his brother, and Philza. That feeling of loneliness, despite knowing he had a family to return to, was still just as gnawing on his soul as he had seen in others they had encountered. 

“Hey man?” he heard Schlatt beside him. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Wilbur scratched at the edge of his shirt collar. “Yeah, just thinking about the shittiness of the world and all it’s shitty people you know?” 

He grinned at the horned boy. 

“Well you’re sure gonna be fun to have parties.” Schlatt mumbled, taking another sip of the wine. 

“Aw, you inviting me?” Wilbur elbowed his friend.   
“Nah,” Schlatt elbowed him back. “You’d make a fool of yourself and make me look like a fucking idiot for bringing you along!” 

“You bastard!” Wilbur scoffed, kicking at the horned boy with a foot. A bit too hard, he realised too late, as the hybrid yelped, slipping forward off the edge of the berm and splashing into the shallow river below. 

He hadn’t meant to kick him that hard, but still, Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh as Schlatt burst out of the water, clinging to a large rock near the bank of the river, screeching in discontent. 

“What the FUCK?!” Schlatt shouted up at him. 

Wilbur bent double as he laughed, Schlatt’s once tousled hair was now sticking to the sides of his face. 

“You look like a fucking drowned rat oh my gods!” he cackled. 

“Wilby you fucking dickhead!” Schlatt sputtered, clinging to the rock as if it was his lifeline. “I can’t fucking swim! You son of a bitch!” 

_ Oh. _

Wilbur immediately scrambled to the edge of the bank, reaching down with a hand for his friend. For a minute it seemed as though Schlatt was going to accept the hand, let him help haul him back up. Until a wicked gleam crossed his eye and instead, the second he took Wilbur’s hand, he dragged him down the berm and into the river. 

Wilbur was plunged into the chilled water, hands clawing about as he tried to gain his bearings, before righting himself, gasping as he surfaced. 

Beside him, he heard Schlatt bawling with laughter. 

“Schlatt what-what the fuck?” Wilbur chuckled, wiping his eyes free of the water. 

“Serves you right!” the hybrid grinned, still clutching to the rock. “Now we suffer together!” 

“Fair enough but the berm’s too steep to climb from here.” Wilbur righted himself, standing up in the waist high water. “So now neither of us can get back up there.” 

“Unless we swim down a ways where the bank is lower,” he gestured further downstream. “Except you said it yourself, you can’t swim.” 

Schlatt’s laughter broke abruptly as realisation crossed his eyes. “.....fuck.” 

Wilbur chuckled. 

“Stop laughing!” Schlatt hissed. “Just help me figure out how to get the fuck out of here!” 

“Could always scream really loudly until someone hears.” 

Wilbur turned at the familiar voice on the opposite side of the river, surprised to see Techno, his legs dangling over the edge of the berm, staring almost indifferently at the two in the river. 

“Oh thank gods!” Schlatt waved. “Tech! How you been? Mind giving us-” 

“Thought you were out working?” Wilbur interjected. “Don’t you get off at sunset?” 

He saw Techno shrug. “Farmer said it was getting too hot to work today, told me to have the rest of the day off.” 

“What about you?” the pink haired teen asked. “You busking in the river?” 

“No we’re swimming.” Schlatt rolled his eyes. 

“Cool.” Techno gave his legs a swing, and to Wilbur’s irritation, dropped from the berm and splashed into the river beside him, showering the other two boys with water. 

“Fuck!” he heard Schlatt groan as Techno’s head and eyes surfaced, still mostly below the water, his pink hair flowing out about him. 

“Now how the fuck are we getting out of here?!” the goat hybrid continued to complain. 

“What’s his problem?” Techno poked his head out from the water enough to speak. 

“Can’t swim apparently.” Wilbur shrugged. 

“Could always learn.” Techno grinned wickedly and latched a hand around Schlatt’s ankle, as if he was about to drag him under. 

Wilbur quickly stopped him. 

“Don’t, Tech.” he pried his twin’s hand from his friend. “He  _ really _ can’t swim.” 

He saw Techno stare blankly at Schlatt, blowing a string of bubbles from his nose before dropping below the surface of the water, his pink hair trailing behind him as he swam down the river. 

Wilbur saw him surface once more, a short ways away. 

“I’ll go get Phil to fish you two dumbasses out then I guess!” Techno shouted before disappearing once more before the surface, taking to the water like a fish. 

“Hope he hurries.” Schlatt mumbled. “My arms are getting tired.” 

“It’s really not that deep.” Wilbur chuckled. “It’s just up to my waist, it’s probably fine.” 

Schlatt glared at him, refusing to release his grip on the rock. 

“I think I’ll take my chances here, thanks.” 


	10. "Burdened and sick at heart, He feigned hope in his look, and inwardly Contained his anguish." ― Virgil, The Aeneid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy realises something is very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: blood, hypothermia, fever, mentions of illness, implied starvation, implied child abuse. 
> 
> (Two more chapters! And then I'm gonna start posting the side arc! Thank you all for reading today :)

Tommy stared out the window of the kitchen as he rinsed off his mug. Outside the sky had gone a dark grey as the clouds of another blizzard began to roll in. 

He shivered as a harsh chill crept up through his fingers and into his arms from the water, before quickly turning off the sink, drying his hands off before the chill spread any further. 

He sat down at the table, slicing himself a bit of the bread they had made that morning. It was no longer warm, but it was wonderfully savoury. Techno had added bits of cheese into the mixture, making a thick, crumbly dough that would taste even more wonderful if dipped in hot stew. 

Stew was out of the question at the moment, unless it was potato. It was the only thing still readily available in the pantry aside from flour and some dried herbs. 

Tommy felt his stomach growl as he chewed on the cheesy bread. His eyes drifted back toward the kitchen window. 

It had only been three hours, he told himself. Techno would be fine. 

He’d left with the promise of returning with some rabbits- Tommy’s mouth had watered at the prospect- for cooking up later that evening. Perhaps even preserving for later. 

Tommy closed his eyes as he chewed the bread, gods he’d missed good food. He’d managed to keep himself fed while in exile, but eating to survive was a far cry from eating to enjoy. Sure, he could live off of potato stew and bread. He  _ had _ been living off of raw fish and the occasionally berries back on the island. But he had the option now to actually enjoy his food, leave some leftovers on his plate, eat until he was satisfied rather than gorge until he felt sick, not knowing when his next meal would be. 

He could savour the flavours now. He could enjoy the cheesy texture of the bread, the salty warmth of a lightly peppered broth, the herby scents of a roast being slow cooked over a fire, the light sweetness of honey in a gentle tea. 

He didn’t have to worry about his stash of food being found, he didn’t have to worry about wasting a carcass he had hunted by having to eat quickly and leave the rest before he was found out, he didn’t have to hide his stores in trees or under logs, risking mould and theft from wildlife. 

He was with Techno now, he told himself. He could relax now. He could just exist. It was okay now, everything was okay. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Tommy opened his eyes, he didn’t realise he had been squishing the bread within his hand. 

His mind began to race. 

Dream knew he was gone. 

Dream probably suspected Techno. 

No, he told himself. Dream  _ definitely _ suspected Techno.

Techno had left three hours ago into the nearby forest to hunt. 

Techno was alone. 

Techno was wounded. 

Tommy shook his head. 

_ He’s fine! _ He shoved the rest of the bread slice into his mouth as he stood, making his way to the main room where the faint embers of the hearth glowed softly.  _ He’s fine. _

He sat down on one of the chairs, wincing as the movement jogged the cuts on his back, and wrapped himself up into one of the massive furs thrown across the seat, burying himself within the fuzzy warmth. Watching the reddish embers of the hearth flicker and crackle pleasantly as he soaked up the remainder of the heat. 

He’d have to put more logs on the fire soon, he reminded himself. With the blizzard on its way, it was going to be cold throughout the whole house in a few hours- 

Tommy’s head shot up as he heard the heavy, rhythmic thumping of Carl’s gallop growing closer to the cabin. He eagerly leapt towards the window to catch sight of his brother’s return. However, the faint feeling of relief within him was suddenly flung aside as he saw Carl’s empty saddle. 

He didn’t think. He only ran. 

Tommy bolted outside, not bothering to throw on his cloak as the massive charger reared up in front of the house, snorting and huffing and pawing anxiously at the ground as Tommy neared. 

“Fuck! You’re fucking big!” Tommy muttered as he reached for the reins, pulling the horse’s head downwards, stroking the creature’s nose soothingly as he shushed him. 

“You good big man?” he asked, still wary of Carl’s habit of nipping. “What’s wrong? Where’s Tech?” 

_ Oh gods! Oh fuck! _

His mind raced as he saw a bloodied smear on the side of Carl’s saddle. 

He gave it a touch, rubbing it between his fingers. The blood was no longer warm, but it was still sticky, it couldn’t be older than maybe an hour? Half an hour in this cold? 

He hoped his tracking skills were correct. 

“Oh fuck!” he tried to slow his breathing as he wiped his hand clean on his trousers, still holding onto Carl’s reins as the horse continued to snort, stamping a massive hoof to the ground impatiently. 

“Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck…” Tommy swallowed as he felt his hands beginning to shake, his throat tightening as his heart began to pound. He released Carl’s reins and bolted back inside, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he began to pace, wringing his hands. 

His mind raced, his thoughts churning like angry gears, sparking with fear. 

Had Dream found Techno? Had he ambushed him? He must have, he must have attacked him. But then, why would Dream attack Techno? And not Tommy himself? If Techno was gone from the cabin, and Dream knew that, wouldn’t he have just gone straight for Tommy instead? 

But then what if it was that group that Techno had mentioned, the Butcher Party? What if they had attacked him instead? 

But if that were the case, wouldn’t Carl have not returned to the house? 

Techno had told him about the charger’s training, to never leave his master’s side until he had fallen. Carl would have been fighting alongside him if he had been ambushed, no matter the attacker. 

So why was the horse back? And not Techno? 

Unless… 

A horrible thought struck Tommy as he remembered the cough he had seen his older brother hiding from him. The memories of the pink haired man chugging down honeyed teas laced with healing potions, the painful coughs he occasionally heard throughout the day, not enough to be thought of as more than a side effect of the wounds, but enough to be concerning. 

What if it finally got to his lungs? 

What if it had already been in his lungs? And with his non stop working, had finally progressed into something far worse than a cough? 

What if…

What if it was the Blood Fever? 

Tommy threw on his boots and cloak, grabbing a healing potion on his way out the door before clambering up onto Carl’s saddle- damn the horse was fucking massive!- and balanced precariously atop him before giving his reins a slap. 

“Take me to him boy-” his voice was cut off by a yelp as the horse lunged forward, back into a gallop, back to the dark trees where he had run from, back towards the oncoming blizzard. 

It took all of Tommy’s strength to keep from falling off the saddle as they bolted through the trees. He clung to the pommel with white knuckles, his eyes and face stinging as bits of snow smacked into his skin, his hair and cloak whipped angrily about him and for a minute he thought he was about to lose the garment. 

Until Carl stopped, nearly flinging Tommy from the saddle with the sudden halt of momentum. 

Tommy slowly pried his fingers from the pommel, glancing about. 

For a long moment, he saw nothing. A layer of fresh snow had dusted through the pines, leaving soft mounds of white everywhere he looked. 

He dismounted, stumbling a bit as he tried sifting through the snow. 

“Techno!” he called out, brushing his fingers through the frosty ground, hoping to snag onto a garment, onto hair, anything. 

“Techno! If you fucking die on me bitch boy I’m never forgiving you!” he felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes as he continued to search, his fingers growing numb. 

Until finally, a strand of pink hair was freed from a small mound of white. 

“Tech!” Tommy began to dig. “You fucking pig bastard!”

He uncovered the man’s face. His skin was so pale. Dark, dried blood stained his lips and neck, dribbling down to his chest still hidden beneath the snow. 

Tommy continued to dig his brother out, grabbing his shoulders and dragging his frozen form from the snow, shuddering in horror at the sight of the blood soaked tunic and snow surrounding him. 

He was cold!

So cold! 

Was he even still alive?! 

Tommy wrapped his cloak around the two, hoping to use his body heat to keep his brother warm, or, at least warm him up? Then again, if he was dead-

He shook his head against the horrid tightening in his throat at the thought and buried his face into his brother’s chest, hoping against all odds that there was still a heartbeat somewhere…

For far, far too long, he stayed that way. His arms around Techno’s freezing, broken frame, rubbing warmth back into his brother’s shoulders and hands as he listened for a heartbeat, breathing, anything. Until finally, he heard it. A weak, laboured breath and a faint heartbeat. 

Tommy finally broke, sobbing as he uncorked the healing potion, pouring the contents carefully down his brother’s throat, hoping it would be enough to at least keep him alive through the night. He then dragged Techno over his shoulders, hoisting him up onto Carl’s back as best he could, praying he wasn’t tearing his wounds open further. 

Finally, after much struggle, he managed to get both himself and his brother onto Carl, keeping his cloak wrapped tightly around them both as he spurred the charger back towards home. 

They barely made it back inside before the blizzard hit. 

Tommy had quickly dried the sweat from Carl’s hide, remembering what his brother had warned him of and not wanting to face the wrath of an angry Techno if anything had happened to the horse. 

If, his older brother made it through the night that was. 

He had left him by the hearth, quickly stoking the fire as warm as he could before dragging a series of blankets down from upstairs, piling them onto Techno’s frozen form atop a series of furs he had thrown across the floor. 

After removing his soaked clothes and re-stitching the wounds once more- just how many more times were they going to reopen?!- he nearly buried his older brother beneath the blankets before sitting down beside him, watching with fearful eyes. 

Techno was breathing, sure, but weakly. His skin was so cold and yet so damp at the same time. There was no telling how much blood he had lost from the reopened wounds, or the coughing. 

There was no telling he would survive the night. 

Not if he had the Blood Fever….

Tommy held Techno’s hand, the fingers still unnervingly cold, and pressed his forehead to it. 

He sobbed. 


	11. "All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love." —Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno is saved from an episode by someone he never thought he'd see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic depiction of a domestic abuse flashback. It's unpleasant. It ends at "He felt a soothing-" if you want to skip it. Depictions of blood, strangling, and abuse of a child and wife. Afterwards it's just SOFT, I promise! 
> 
> To you, yeah you, you know who I'm talking about, I wrote the thing. 
> 
> Sam is not the same Sam who built the prison from L'Manberg, Sam is short for Samantha. Samantha Sung. Please don't kill me for that terrible joke. 
> 
> (Thank you all so much for reading again today! One more chapter and then the Themiscyra Arc will begin! Thanks for sticking with me on this project for so long :)

Techno stared weakly upwards from where he lay on the checkered tiled floor, watching with blank eyes as his mind screamed for him to move. 

A dark haired man stood over him, shouting incoherently, his face morphing and melting with each word. He kicked at Techno’s chest, landing his boot hard against his sternum. 

He coughed, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, but his body refused to move. 

_ Kill him! _

_ Kill him! _

_ Kill him! _

_ Hurt you! _

_ He hurt you!  _

_ Kill him! _

_ KILL HIM! _

His limbs were locked in place, not from any restraints, but from his own body forcing him to go limp, to retreat into himself, to pray the man wouldn’t hit him any further. 

He couldn’t fight him. He wanted to. He wanted to tear that bastard’s face off! 

Except, he didn’t. 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up and close his eyes and never be hurt again. He wanted the man to stop screaming at him, to stop shouting, to stop hurting him. He just wanted the man to smile, to hold him, to hug him like he had once before, to call him his son...he had done that once, right? 

He had loved him before, didn’t he? 

Or had he always been this way? 

_ Never loved you!  _

_ Loved you… _

_ NEVER LOVED YOU! _

_ STUPID BOY! _

_ Monster… _

_ MONSTER! _

_ Not his son… _

_ NOT MY SON! _

_ How was it possible… _

_ Hate you… _

_ HATES YOU! _

_ Should have died… _

_ SHOULDN’T HAVE LIVED! _

_ Kill him… _

_ KILL IT! _

Techno winced as he heard a woman screaming. He watched as a pair of pale hands latched around the man’s arms, a flash of long, pink hair flowed before his eyes as a regal woman tried to pull the man away from him. Only to be struck hard in the face. She crumpled at the man’s feet, sobbing, rubbing her eyes as the man reached down to Techno. 

He hated this part. 

He always hated this part.

_ Please no!  _

He couldn’t move. He was limp as he felt himself grabbed by the throat and hoisted upwards. 

_ Stop!  _

_ Please stop!  _

_ KILL HIM! _

_ Stop! _

_ KILL THE BASTARD! _

_ Please! Please!  _

The hands about his throat began to crush inwards. He felt a harsh pain shoot through his neck as his windpipe collapsed, his head pounded as the blood flow ceased. He saw the pink haired woman slamming her fists into the man’s back to no avail. 

And then he was thrown, his back and skull colliding hard against a wall before he collapsed hard to the floor, blood streaming from his mouth and nose as he heard the woman continuing to shriek, the sounds of blows landing and a body falling to the floor. 

But before the rest of the scene played out, he heard something new. 

A familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in years, called out to him. 

He blinked. 

The scene before him began to morph as he started to make out the words of the voice. 

“I’m here...I’m here sweetheart...Techno...I’m here…” 

The black and white floor dripped and melted before his eyes, the image of the man and pink haired woman faded, the blood flowed back into him. The pain in his throat left. 

He felt a soothing, slender, chilled hand against his back. 

“You’re alright.” the gentle voice assured him. “I’m here, it’s alright.” 

He was no longer in his nightmare, he realised. 

The room was now small, the walls a sandy earthen colour, wide windows streamed in a gentle sunlight and the image of a bright, blue sky outside, dotted with clouds and sea birds. Bookshelves cluttered with tomes and scrolls and various implements of the old world lined the walls. A familiar, simple table and chairs was sat over a woven rug, plain and pleasant. 

The scent of cinnamon washed across his senses. 

Techno leaned into the bearer of the voice, burying his face into her shoulder as she stroked his hair, shushing him gently. 

Silvery hair, a crystalline voice, cold but soothing hands. He had longed for ages to see her again. 

After a long moment, he pulled away. 

The demon before him smiled gently, her milky white eyes creasing up at the corners. 

“Hi, Sam.” Techno grinned. 

“Oh please love,” Sam gave him a light kiss on the forehead. “You know you can call me mom.” 

“Never called Phil dad.” Techno shrugged. 

Sam sighed, pouting. “I know, but it would be nice to hear it.” 

“Are you alright?” she asked, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “I tried to reach you sooner, I’m so sorry you had to endure an episode like that for so long.” 

Techno gave her another quick hug. “I’m okay, mom.” 

“Just…” he trailed off, fighting back the recent memories of the episode. “I just need a moment.” 

“Take as long as you need.” he heard Sam’s soothing voice beside his ear as she continued to stroke his hair. 

They stayed that way for some time. Gods he’d missed her! How long had it been? Eight years? Ten? Had he really lost count? 

How the hell was she here now? Was she projecting into his mind? Was this just a dream? Was he dead? 

He pulled away once more. 

“I’m not dead, am I?” he asked. 

“Like father like son.” Sam laughed. “You know those were the first words he spoke to me when we met?” 

“Sam please.” Techno narrowed his eyes. 

“You’re alive sweetheart.” his step mother assured him, leading him to the table. “I wouldn’t be able to find you if you were dead.” 

Techno sat in one of the chairs, marveling at the familiarity of the simple table before him. 

“How...how is this here?” he asked. “Am I on Themiscyra?” 

“Yes and no.” Sam took a seat opposite him. “I accessed your memories of the place and brought you into it instead of...where you had been.” 

She waved a hand and a tea set appeared before them both. 

“So, none of this is real?” Techno raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s as real as your mind allows it to be.” Sam nodded. “What sort of tea would you like? There’s no limit to what it can be in your mindscape you know.” 

Techno blinked, confused. He had witnessed Philza projecting his voice into his mind before, many times. He had even seen him once or twice entering his dreams to check on him. 

But it had never occured with Sam. 

It had certainly never been this real before. 

He felt himself relax somewhat. It was nice. 

“Rose.” he nodded. “With a bit of honey.” 

“Rose it is then.” Sam waved her hand once more and the tea cup before him was suddenly filled with a light pinkish brew, a swirl of steam rising up from the brim of the porcelain. 

Techno cautiously raised the cup to his lips, taking a sip. 

The warm, comforting liquid washed across his tongue, as gentle a flavour as he remembered it being the first time he had ever met his step mother all those years ago. 

He sighed, contentedly. 

There was no pain here with Sam. No pain, no voices, just a calm sensation that flowed through his being, warm and soft. 

He’d missed this. 

“Where have you been?” he finally asked the question that had been plaguing him for years. A question he never thought he’d even be able to ask. 

Sam’s milk white eyes seemed to turn a shade of grey as her expression grew grim for a moment. She took a sip of her tea. 

“I’m…” she shook her head. “I’m honestly not entirely sure.” 

“After the fire of Themiscyra,” she turned the teacup in her hand. “My memories become foggy.” 

“I know where I am now, just not how I got here.” she explained. “However, for your own safety, I don’t think I can tell you where I am.” 

“Why?” Techno was baffled. None of this made sense, first she disappeared, now she had no memories as to why? Why couldn’t she tell him where she was?

“I’m being watched.” she turned the teacup once more, sipping delicately. “By whom I’m not sure, but I know they know you, and I know they would leap at the chance to hurt you should they find you.” 

“You’re-are you…” he struggled with his words, the taste of the rose tea turning bitter as he pondered the horrid prospect that Sam might be hurt somewhere. “Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?” 

He felt his heart ache at the thought of his mother being hurt-

“I’m alright.” Sam placed a hand on his, smiling. “Believe me when I say that no harm has come to me thus far.” 

“I may be a hostage but I am not in any immediate threat, I can assure you.” she patted his hand. “And once I find a way out of here, you can bet that whoever has held me will not last long.” 

Techno sighed in relief, grateful his step mother was alright, for now at least. She was strong, he knew that. A demon, even if summoned to only half it’s true form, even if gentle as Sam, was still a demon after all. 

He pitied whoever had locked her away. 

“Phil misses you.” he finally said. 

“I miss him too.” Sam nodded. “And Tommy, and Wilbur, and Tubbo.” 

Her eyes grew downcast. “I saw through your memories.” 

_ Oh...fuck. _

Techno stiffened. 

“I’m so...I’m so sorry.” she said quietly. 

He realised what she must have seen; Wilbur’s death, Tubbo’s near death, Tommy’s exile, the wars, his failed execution… Of course she hadn’t known. 

He felt a lump grow in his throat as he realised what she must be feeling now. 

To his surprise, however, she took a breath and smiled once more. 

“I’ll process that later.” she said. “For now, I’d like to catch up with you.” 

A thought struck Techno. 

“You’re astral projecting, aren’t you?” he asked. “Dream walking?” 

“Indeed.” Sam nodded. 

“Why haven’t you done this sooner?” he took another sip of the tea, it had returned to the original rose flavour as before. “I’m not upset, I'm just curious.” 

“I didn’t know how to.” Sam shrugged. “Your father was always a better dreamwalker than I. I was far more into the practical applications of magic rather than the spiritual aspect.” 

“Not to mention,” she grinned playfully. “It’s a bit difficult for a demon to access the astral plane without causing some form of pushback.” 

“Makes sense.” Techno agreed. 

“But for now,” Sam waved a hand. “How have you been?” 

“Well,” Techno thought for a moment, remembering the events of the afternoon. “To be honest, I think I’m probably dying out in the woods.” 

Sam closed her eyes for a moment, then smiled once more, opening them. 

“No, you’re in your cabin now.” she explained. “Tommy found you.” 

“Ah.” Techno grinned. “Good to see him being useful for once.”

“Well, he does have half of my genetics.” Sam laughed. “I’m just surprised it’s taken him this long to  _ be _ useful.” 

“Think he’ll start growing horns?” Techno chuckled. “Maybe a tail?” 

“I’d place my bet more on a tail.” his step mother refilled her teacup. “He doesn’t suit horns, I’d be worried he’d spend too much time trying to headbutt anyone who pissed him off.” 

“And you and I both know his skull is not thick enough for that.” she added. 

“I dunno,” Techno grinned mischievously. “His actions would say otherwise.” 

“Oh you walk a dangerous game love.” Sam’s eyes crinkled up as she laughed. “That’s my own flesh and blood we’re discussing you know.” 

“Everyone knows I’m the favourite.” Techno huffed. “You’d never follow through on your threats.” 

“Hm.” Sam leaned her head against her hand. 

“I saw an interesting thing in your memories.” she changed the subject. “A piebald boy whom you seem incredibly...unsure about?” 

Techno cringed. 

“I….may have a son.” he rubbed a hand across his face in embarrassment. 

“Oh!” Sam’s eyes lit up as she clapped her hands together. “Another grandson?!” 

“Maybe.” Techno continued to wince at the memory of his realisation. “You don’t...do you remember an enderman back on Themiscyra?” 

“Lucy you mean?” Sam placed a hand over her mouth. “No!” 

“....you remember how I left your wedding party early with her?” Techno buried his face in his hands. “And we didn’t come back for two whole days?”

“Oh...oh my gods…” Sam’s ears went bright red as she smothered laughter. “You didn’t!” 

“....I did.” Techno groaned. 

“Oh my son.” Sam shook her head. “Why? Why Lucy? She’s the island’s sweetheart!” 

“.....legs…” Techno coughed. 

“Excuse me?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

“She was incredibly sweet, we had similar interests, she was very patient with me and we just got along really well…” he listed. “....and she had nice legs… But mostly she was just really nice okay?!” 

“We were both drunk.” he groaned. “I thought we were just friends and shit but then, I dunno, things got...complicated? I guess? I don’t know! We just had one unlucky night where neither of us were thinking and everything was so fucking awkward the next morning!” 

“Is that why you left?” Sam asked. 

“No,” Techno sighed. “I left the island for multiple reasons.” 

“I needed some time alone,” he explained. “I wanted to get out into the world for a bit, maybe settle somewhere, maybe just explore.” 

“Mainly,” he fidgeted with a lock of hair. “I was getting overwhelmed. With the island, with the family constantly growing, with the voices, with my own feelings.” 

“Everything was just so loud, I needed to find some place to be alone for a while.” he ran the end of the lock of hair across his lips, watching the tea swirling in its cup on the table. 

“But,” he bit the ends of the hair. “Then I found out about the fires, the attacks…” 

He trailed off, shaking his head. 

“I wanted to come back,” he finally looked back up at Sam. “But at the same time, I just...I just couldn’t.” 

“It was just too much.” 

“It was.” Sam agreed. “It was...it was a lot to process.” 

Techno took another sip of his tea. 

“Do you know…” he felt so awkward! “Do you know if Lucy is alright?” 

“She was fairly distant after you left.” Sam explained. “I didn’t see her for a few months at a time, but I know after the first attack she left the island.” 

“She only said she was ‘going to find him’,” she folded her hands together. “At the time I assumed she was going to look for you, but now, I think she might be looking for her son.” 

“Our son.” Techno said slowly. 

Sam nodded. 

“Ranboo,” she stated. “I saw from your memories, you have quite the complicated relationship with him.” 

“Should I tell him?” Techno asked. 

“Do you think he would want to know though?” Sam countered. 

“That’s the problem!” Techno rubbed his eyes. “After all he’s gone through, after what he’s done to me, and then surprise! I’m your dad who never knew you existed.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” he muttered. “About Tommy, about Ranboo, about Tubbo. I’m not saying life was easier when I could just stab the things that hurt me, but it at least was something I could understand!” 

“Feelings are indeed complicated.” Sam agreed. “As are people.” 

“How the fuck did Phil manage it?” Techno mumbled, exhausted. 

After a long moment of silence, he felt a hand on his shoulder, chilled and calming. 

“You’re not Philza.” Sam’s gentle voice said. “You don’t need to be him to be a good leader.” 

“I’m not a father, Sam.” he sighed. 

“I never said you had to be a father.” Sam shook her head. “But Tommy, and Ranboo if you so chose, need a leader in their lives right now.” 

Techno took her hand and placed it on his forehead, closing his eyes at the comforting touch. 

“And,” Sam’s fingers gave his hair a light tap. “You, young man, need to stop overworking yourself.” 

She pulled her hand away, Techno realised she was scowling. 

“Poor Tommy probably thinks you have the Blood Fever.” she chided. “Didn’t Phil drill it into your head that you should NEVER overwork yourself? Mind or body?” 

“But-” 

“Don’t you be giving me any buts, love.” Sam crossed her arms. “Self care is important! ESPECIALLY when you’ve been IMPALED!” 

Techno winced. 

She was right. 

He’d ignored everything that Phil had taught for the past few days. To be fair though, a lot was happening within those days, he hadn’t really had the time to properly rest. But still, he needed to. 

“Alright.” he sighed. “I promise I won’t overwork myself.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you promising me? Or yourself?” 

“Both.” Techno affirmed. 

He saw Sam’s face soften as she gave his forehead a light kiss once more. 

“Give Tommy my love,” she smiled. “I hope to be able to see you all again soon.” 

And as suddenly as she had appeared in his mind, his mother was gone. 

Techno floated in a grey, fuzzy warmth. His surroundings had morphed into nothing more than a myriad of incoherent shapes, fading slowly in and out of his vision. 

It was only when the voices returned that he realised he had regained consciousness. 

_ Warm… _

_ Warm… _

_ Nice and warm… _

_ Fuzzy blanket… _

_ Furs… _

_ Tommy snores… _

_ Smack him… _

_ Shut him up… _

_ Snore… _

_ Stupid boy… _

_ Racooninnit… _

_ Racoon boy is stupid… _

_ Warm… _

Techno slowly blinked as he entered the world of the living once more. 

He was home again. Lying on a pile of furs and buried under layers of blankets next to the hearth, the soft red of the embers backlit the silhouette of a sleeping Tommy beside him. 

Techno weakly took the boy’s hand, curling his fingers around him as he nuzzled up beside his little brother, soaking in the warmth. 

He hated being cold. 

But he was warm now. Warm and safe and home. 

He fell back asleep. 


	12. “After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.” ― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza is frustrated. Ghostbur is forgetful. Tubbo is distraught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: implied drowning, implied kidnapping. 
> 
> (Last chapter of this instalment! Sorry for the cliffhanger, it will be resolved, I promise! But for now, the Themiscyra side arc will be what I'm focusing on before I get back into the main story.   
> Thank you all so much for reading! My sibling and I had a lot of fun brainstorming and writing down ideas for this story, and yes we read all your comments and try to reply to all of them. You've all been so nice and it keeps us motivated to keep working on the next parts of the story. Again, thank you all so much for reading and we hope you have a good day! :)

Philza paced. 

He knew he shouldn’t, his ankle stung with every movement as the shackle continued to wear against his skin. 

But there really wasn’t much else that he could do now. 

He’d been found out. He’d been found out and now Tubbo was skeptical of anything he asked for, any herbs, any minerals, anything. Everything was screened thoroughly by the boy and only given in limited doses to him, to prevent him from creating any more potions or performing any rituals. 

Even Fundy, whom he’d almost managed to cultivate a small alliance with, was no longer allowing him to be alone much anymore. Watching his every move, while still saying the occasional apology and “I still love you grandpa” was not something Phil thought he could stand for much longer. 

He couldn’t blame Fundy though. The boy was only doing what he was told. 

Nor could he blame Tubbo, sort of…

A part of him wanted to blame Quackity. 

He hissed, his wings fluffed. 

Quackity had been working with Schlatt, L’Manberg’s tyrant president, since before he had even arrived at the city. From what he gathered, the only reason Quackity had changed sides was out of fear of losing his grip on the nation once he saw Schlatt firing his inner circle right and left. 

Quackity had then blamed Techno for L’Manberg’s troubles. 

Quackity had roped Tubbo into attempting to murder his own brother. 

Phil kicked at the chain around his leg, seething as it rattled across the floor. 

How much control did that boy have over his son?! 

“Phil!” 

His head whipped around as he heard the rather loud stage whisper of Ghostbur behind the front door. 

“Philza! Phil!” the ghost continued to ‘whisper’ as Phil made his way to the door. “I can’t open the door! I have things!” 

“Your whisper is shit.” Philza opened the door for the ghost, and was surprised to see the fluffy blue form of Friend beside the shade. 

“What’s this?” he asked as Ghostbur led the sheep into the house. 

“Oh!” Ghostbur grinned, blue leaked from the corners of his mouth. “This is a sheep! A blue sheep!” 

“Yes,” Phil closed the door, careful to ensure no one had seen the two enter. “I know what Friend is. I meant why did you bring them here?” 

“Well,” the ghost patted the sheep’s head. “You seemed upset and...and I don’t think the blue is working with you.” 

“And when I feel upset,” Ghostbur smiled again. “And the blue doesn’t work with me, I pet Friend!” 

Phil blinked. 

“Friend makes everything feel much nicer.” the shade gave the sheep a little scratch behind the ear. “And I thought maybe you could pet Friend too and feel better.” 

“Wil-Ghostbur, I…” Philza eyed the blue sheep before him, unsure exactly of what to think. 

He was angry. He was angry with Quackity, angry the boy had manipulated his own sons into murdering each other, angry that there was nothing he could do about his situation. He wasn’t so much sad as he was just, frustrated. 

But, he was happy to see someone still cared for him, even if there wasn’t much they could do for him. 

Not a cautious love like Fundy, but a genuine, almost innocent love. 

It reminded him of when Wilbur was still only a child, offering him gifts of rocks and handfuls of dirt or interesting leaves he had found. 

He missed it. 

Philza sighed, sitting down on the floor in front of Friend, lightly patting the sheep’s nose. It did, actually, feel a little better. If only just. 

It sure as hell beat pacing about all day. 

“See?” Ghostbur smiled. 

“I guess.” Phil gave the sheep a light scratching under the chin. It stared blankly at him with large, black eyes. Uncertain of exactly what was happening but content nonetheless. 

He needed a break. 

Gods did he need a break from this madness! 

“I know you can’t eat anything,” he stood, addressing the shade before him. “But would you like to have some tea with me?” 

The ghost’s featureless eyes seemed to light up. 

“I can still hold things!” he nodded, floating towards the table. “And we can talk! And you can pet Friend!” 

Phil shuffled about within the pantry, removing the few bits of tea that hadn’t been confiscated, and a small tin of lavender biscuits, before setting the kettle onto the stove. 

“I’ve-I’ve been meaning to ask, Phil.” he heard Ghostbur’s weak voice. 

“Yeah?” He placed a spoonful of herbs into the kettle, letting them stir into the water as it began to boil. 

“You seemed sad when I talked about Sally.” the ghost stated. “Did...did Alive-Bur do something to her?” 

Philza sighed, giving the tea another stir as a flood of memories began to seep into his mind. 

“She’s not dead, is she?” he heard the shade’s voice almost shaking. 

“I don’t know.” Phil removed the kettle from the stove, pouring out two mugs and placing them on the table. 

He noticed Ghostbur take his mug, tucking it close to his chest where the still bleeding wound was, as if the heat from the tea was a comfort. 

The same motion he would do, he noted, when he was upset. 

“How much of Sally do you remember?” he asked, sipping at the tea. 

Ghostbur’s eyes seemed to flicker through a myriad of emotions. Happiness, confusion, a brief hint of sorrow and pain, and then happiness once more. 

“Not much.” he smiled. “But I do remember I really loved her.” 

“I remember taking walks with her.” the ghost stared into the swirling gold of the tea. “We were on a beach. She was wearing my sweater. It was really cute on her.” 

“And I remember something- I think I was hurt? Or sick?” he shrugged. “And she was holding me and it made me feel better.” 

“I remember…” his eyes grew distant as a faint smile played about his lips. “I remember running my fingers through her hair, it was so pretty you know? All reddish gold, like autumn leaves. Almost like Fundy’s but darker and longer and softer.” 

“She had a terrible singing voice.” he chuckled. “But she was always just so fun to be around I really didn’t notice until I think Tech pointed it out?” 

Philza laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” 

“I think-I think she…” Ghostbur trailed off as he placed a hand to his lips, his eyes still glazed over in the past. “I think she saved my life?” 

For a brief moment, Phil could swear he saw a faint bit of pink flush across the ghost’s otherwise pale, grey skin. 

“You told me she did,” he nodded, taking another sip of the tea. “After we lost you in that storm, you said you had drowned.” 

“...salt…” Ghostbur said quietly. “...the taste of salt…” 

“I don’t know all the details, only that she saved you.” Philza explained. “And that you two had managed to survive out on that little island surprisingly well before we had found you.” 

“I never…” the ghost continued to mumble quietly. “I never got to ask if that counted as a first kiss.” 

“Hm?” Phil raised an eyebrow, unsure exactly of what the shade was talking about. 

“Huh?” Ghostbur glanced back at him, appearing equally confused. “Huh what?” 

“You were thinking about Sally.” Philza set the mug down. 

“Oh right!” the shade laughed. “I like Sally! Well, I liked her I guess. Is liked the correct term? I’m sure I still like her, I just don’t know where she is.” 

“Phil do you know what happened to her?” he asked. 

Philza shook his head. “I already told you, I don’t know.” 

“All I know was that after the first raids on Themiscyra,” he explained. “I went to collect you and Fundy, take you somewhere safe.” 

“And you didn’t know where Sally was.” he stated solemnly. “There was a lot happening those few months, a lot of people disappeared then.” 

“Oh…” Ghostbur hung his head. 

“I’m sorry.” Phil sighed. “I wish I knew more about what had happened, but I wasn’t there.” 

“Where-where were you though?” the ghost asked. 

Phil stiffened. 

“I…” he gripped the mug’s handle.

Should he tell him? He wondered. Technically, it was Alive-Bur who knew, not Ghostbur. It was Alive-Bur who had been angry with him, not Ghostbur. It was Alive-Bur who had wanted nothing more to do with him, not Ghostbur. 

Before he had a chance to answer fully, however, the door to his house was flung open. 

“Philza!” 

He flinched, prepared to meet Tubbo’s gaze with a dark one of his own, but was surprised when the boy bolted towards him, flinging his arms around him as he screamed. 

Phil was stunned as the boy buried his face against his chest, bawling. 

The words he could coherently make out from the distraught child were, “He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s fucking dead!” 


End file.
